


Give me

by fish_wifey



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bottoming from the Top, Dating, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Wooing, from teammates to lovers, hanging out together, joint practices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 14:58:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4105096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fish_wifey/pseuds/fish_wifey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akaashi is quite sure of who he wants, but this is Bokuto. This needs time, tact, and timing to get there /without/ blundering. </p><p>(Also if you're looking for a Fukuroudani team fic, this is it. I love this team, I had so much fun writing all the characters and interactions within and towards Nekoma. I just love the fucking owls so much okay).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ushijima ebooks (bokutowl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokutowl/gifts).



> Even though it's just the first chapter, I'll have you all know that this fic got out of hand within the first 24hrs of being assigned to it. I’ve been so pumped and happy~~ I ship Bokuaka hARD but I never wrote fic for them (just random ideas and headcanons and the sense that I would someday contribute for this pairing). So when I saw this, everything I ever wanted to write somehow came together uvu
> 
> To my recipient! I had lots of fun writing this~ You won’t find ‘everyone knows’ in this fic though, it’s the only point I cannot provide. However, I'm it a bit, so I hope you can be happy with the version of 'noticing'. To quote Bokuto “I dodged, and excellently at that!” ovó
> 
> Due to this fic getting lots of love and ideas, I ended up wanting to a whole lot of stuff for it. Since I also had exams and I didn't want to rush anything, this is only the first chapter~ chapter 2 and parts of 3 are written, but not yet read by a beta, so I hope you can be patient~~ I hope to get it all done asap uvu
> 
> Fun facts before reading: when I saw the Puma ‘ACE’ shirt, I had to get it. I took the pink one. And yes, it’s for the ladies, but who really gives a fuck uvu> It's none of us I'm sure.

It’s a complete riot the second Bokuto pushes past the crowds of people (who either enter or exit the station’s west entrance), waving with his arm stretching to the skies, comparable to a car’s windshield wiper. Keiji’s hand is half way up to his chest, waving in response. How he’s supposed to go shopping with Bokuto is questionable to him, even more so when his eyes take in every piece of fabric on Bokuto’s body. Tokyo heats up during the change of season from spring to summer, crowds gathering in the shopping districts, plus the tourist-worthy streets overflowing with people of all kinds at the end of May. Keiji tried to battle both of these factors with a light, blue-coloured shirt and darker, calf-long pants. 

Of course his daring captain took it wilder. Showing off lots of skin, Bokuto’s downtime clothing choices of the day resemble more that of a basketball player instead of a volleyball one; the oversized shirt in stark white displays the English word ‘ace’ in all caps, and the wide red jeans shorts reach Bokuto’s knees. The shorts have cut outs on the thighs displaying mesh, sometimes skin. And are those basketball shoes?

“Hey, Akaashi.” He sing-songs his name, prone to do so ever since Keiji scolded him for calling him ‘Akashi’ the first time they met. Given his captain a once-over, Keiji’s eyes stare at the cap he wears, backwards, grey hair haphazardly coming out in tufts. Catching his breath, Bokuto looks around him at the streets, mentioning stores they should take a look at.

“Sure but first… what’s with your clothes, Bokuto-san?” Keiji understands why he’d wear this shirt, until Bokuto spread his arms wide. Keiji’s eyes get a treat of Bokuto’s side on full display, as the shirt’s cut out is low. 

“Akaashi, I’m begging you. It’s way too hot to wear anything more than this.”

“What’s the second shirt round your waist about?” Keiji tears his eyes away from the serratus muscles Bokuto has build up at the rib cage area. Fumbling with a piece of paper in his pocket, he takes it out, taking a quick survey of the addresses and where they are at the moment.

Bokuto runs up to his side, upper body bowed forward to blink at Keiji, nudging his elbow.

“Haven’t you checked the weather forecast this morning?” 

“...I wish I had.” Keiji touches his elbow, eyes turned skyward and suddenly apprehensive of any cloud he could see. “Anyway, the first store is right around… here.” He stops in front of the sports store, while Bokuto wastes no time heading in first. Keiji has to tear him away from sport lifestyle section, and guide him further and up, till they reach the fourth storey. At last, they head to the back of the floor.

After a brainstorm session, the team’s decision came down to buying a birthday present for their first year manager, Kaori. A plain white volleyball, where everyone would write messages for her. It was both the most creative and uncreative thing a person could imagine. The ideas had been blessed by their captain, who’d promptly taken Keiji under his arm, announcing the two of them would buy it in the next matchless weekend. Just in case, Keiji had asked their other manager, Yukie, to compile a list of things Kaori likes, and where to find them. 

Keiji’s mixed feelings intensified seeing Bokuto testing out various balls, smacking them to the floor. He shouldn’t be allowed to go out in that tank top. Cursing under his breath, Keiji watches Bokuto’s palm-smashes, both caught up in the moment, when Bokuto passes the ball at him. Force of habit, Keiji’s arms go straight to the toss motion, not even blinking at Bokuto’s ability to drag him into doing these things. 

Grinning, Bokuto runs up to jump, then smashes the ball over the clothing racks they’re hidden behind.

“Whoops.” Something crashes where the ball hits, and they both duck. Using his head, Bokuto takes another, white beach volleyball, and shoves at Keiji’s spine, ducking and running for safety when they hear the angry male clerk approach them with curses. Under stress, Keiji takes Bokuto’s wrist, the one not holding the ball, and they hide in a changing room, curtains drawn. 

Restraining himself to hit Bokuto, fearing the noise it would make, Keiji has to clamp a hand across the laughing mouth, air snorting against his palm. Bokuto shoves him forward once more, making him check if the coast is clear. Seeing the clerk on the opposite side of the room, Keiji hesitates a moment, the body pressing against him feeling nice. However, staying here is dangerous, so they run out and practically fly down the stairs, unseen. They make it to the counter on the base floor, ready to run out at a moment’s notice. 

Downstairs, no one seems on alert for any rowdy customers. Keiji takes his time picking up sports socks before he follows Bokuto. They must pass off as unrushed shoppers. He defends his choice when he sees the questioning look on Bokuto’s face.

“They’re 70% off.”

“I don’t care, it’s summer- wait.” Bokuto straightens up, walks past Keiji, and takes a couple of pairs in his own size. “That’s so smart.”

Leaving the store without a scolding, the ball in one plastic bag and their socks put in their own backpacks, they still got money left from what the team has pitched in for the expense. It pushes Keiji’s need to buy Kaori something else. On the upside, he can spend more time with Bokuto. 

“We should buy her other things, maybe something practical. Just the ball is lame.” Keiji doesn’t listen to Bokuto’s defiance for the great idea. Instead he focuses once again on the piece of paper with Yukie's handwriting. At home, he had prepared a route regarding the streets Yukie had given him, which now enable him to guide Bokuto quickly from one store to the next without getting lost. “Let’s go this way.” 

Even with the smells wafting their ways while the store’s door is closed, and Keiji’s nose scrunches up at the overwhelming scents. 

“Our awesome managers do everything for us, Akaashi. This is the least we can do in return.” Braving the scents and odd looks from the other shoppers, they head into a smelly soap store. There’s too much choice in various shapes and colours. Taking separate routes and rounds, they end up unable to decide, and send Yukie a mail for guidance. 

“Ah man, I’m bummed. They have so much, but not the stuff I like.”

Keiji keeps his voice casual when he tries to inquire. “What do you-” But the lights on his phone interrupt, Yukie's response ‘apples’ depicted on the screen with the Apple logo. Keiji’s question sinks into forgottenness, Bokuto pulling him to the apple green part of the store. There are blocks of soaps in all sizes, small sachets with grains, but what takes Bokuto’s main interest are the-

“Bath bombs. That sounds so cool, let’s get here this one. It’s even shaped like an apple.” Bokuto sounds stunned as he holds the bath soap. Keiji smiles at the easiness to impress Bokuto with simple things, then pushes him past the other soaps to the counter, eager to get out of here.

“Is it a gift?” The lady behind the counter takes their money, which isn’t enough to pay. “We can pack it up for you if you’d like!” Bokuto pays the remaining amount himself, while arguing with Keiji.

“She can pack the soap stuffs, or the ball will smell like apple.” Bokuto looks at Keiji, waiting for confirmation. 

“Suzumeda-san likes the apple scent, though. She wouldn’t mind it. And the ball doesn’t have our messages yet.” Keiji understands why Bokuto doesn’t want to package himself, because as genius as he is in volleyball terms, he’s bad at a lot of other stuff. Keiji remembers Christmas from last year’s, and Bokuto’s gifts were great, nothing against it. The way he put wrapping paper and ribbons around was an annual joke, from which Keiji had heard rumors only. But then he knew. 

“Damn, you’re right.” Bokuto lands his fist into his palm, eyes downward at the sudden realization. 

The saleswoman pipes in again, offering to put ample amount of packaging into the bag, so they can pack it up later. They want to thank her, but she interrupts them by making them choose between ribbons and various coloured packaging, in boxes and see-through foil. 

“Do you have black, white, and gold?” Bokuto leans over the counter, able to see what the sales lady has in store. At least choosing the sort of packaging can be left to the overexcited man next to Keiji. They end up with see-through foil in grey, ribbons in black and white, and yellow glitter which, the saleswoman explains, they can glue on the bottom of the foil, and it won’t explode anywhere when the recipient opens the gift. Keiji tries to dissuade Bokuto from the glitter idea, already seeing the stuff everywhere, including on himself, Bokuto, the court, and their birthday girl. 

Captain’’s orders end up with the glitter in a sachet package, to Keiji’s dismay. 

“Just don’t open it up yourself. Let Washio and Shirofuku-san handle it.” Keiji keeps the door open, because Bokuto wants to carry both the volleyball and the bathing products in two separate hands, to make them look more ‘busy’. 

“Yeah, yeah, be careful before I put it in your hair.” Bokuto grins, stepping to towards the fresh air again. 

Keiji glares at him. “Don’t you dare.”

“Hehe, relax. Let me invite you instead! It’s so cool of you to come with me today, even though I sorta dragged you to go with me.” Bokuto smiles, heading over to a café. Keiji tries to stop him, saying it’s no big deal, but they enter nonetheless of his protest. A few moments later, they both have cola floats in front of them, the ice cream making the drink sizzle with bubbles. Again, Bokuto is eager to pay, and doesn’t listen to Keiji. 

“I told you to relax, Akaashi. I’m your senpai after all, let me do what is expected of me.” Denying this face anything has proven nigh impossible on previous accounts, so Keiji doesn’t fight it this time, not touching the money in his wallet. Instead, he enjoys the quiet time, drinking the coke and eating the ice cream with a spoon. Half way through, Keiji’s starts to laugh at the colour combination.

“Black, white and gold.” He mumbles it, loud enough for Bokuto to pick up on it, who leans forward from the relaxed leaning back position he’s been in.

“What didja say?”

“The float… the coke is near black, the vanilla scoop is white, and if you hold the coke into the light-” Keiji demonstrates, watching the sizzling bubbles light up in a golden haze. Bokuto holds Keiji’s hand and the glass between his own hands, awed at the display. Fondness fills Keiji’s chest, who doesn’t pull his hand away from the touch.

Once they head outside and away once more from air-conditioned space, Keiji’s shoulders slump when he loses Bokuto. On the way to the trains to go their separate ways, they separate a tad too early. All Keiji heard was a gasp at his side, and when he turns to ask what has gotten Bokuto’s attention this time. The child of Fukuroudani ran off and inside a shop. Keiji could roll his eyes and waits. He knows he’d be beckoned in anyway, so he accepts his fate and follows. 

Just in time for Bokuto running back to him, showing two bracelets. Keiji gives them one look; they’re small beads, black and white, with a silver owl in the middle. One has more beads and is longer, but Keiji cannot decipher why it is so, as Bokuto turns to buy them.

“They’re so cool. I saw them in the display and just had to get them.” Why he in fact needs two, becomes clear after Bokuto thanks the clerk, and they head outside. Keeping the one which turns out to be an actual bracelet for himself. “Here!” 

Bokuto’s other hand shoves something described as an anklet into Keiji’s unwilling hands.

“What, no. Why?” Keiji looks at the laminated package in his hand, trying to give it back. Bokuto’s face, and magically his whole hair, falls, the sad expression too much for Keiji to handle on a normal day, let alone in the warmth of May. 

“But they’re perfect. See them as friendship bracelets, or, no wait; we can call them owlets!” His face all split at his ingenious pun. While Bokuto unpacks the anklet, Keiji’s cannot protest in order to help Bokuto remember that the word wouldn’t be a good choice. 

“You know the word owlet exist, Bokuto-san?” 

“Doesn’t matter, its the word we’re gonna use from now on, you too.” The eyes are too intense, too happy, and Keiji’s defenses cannot turn down such generosity, or be the reason to push Bokuto in his hard-to-deal-with mode. Not only rolling his eyes, but his whole head, Keiji gets blinded by the sunlight, any sort of objections to the gift dead in his throat.

It presents ample of time for Bokuto to crouch in front of him, nimble fingers working the beads, kept together by a silver closing mechanism, around Keiji’s right leg. Its weird, having Bokuto’s hands, capable of strong spikes and tough blocks, be so gentle on his skin, so precise, while securing the ankle bracelet. 

“For luck, at the Interhigh preliminaries.” 

Keiji dares to take a peek, coming face to face with Bokuto’s smile, who still crouches on the sidewalk. It’s worse than a single sun, that good-humored smile. Keiji still feels the fingers on his bare skin when they resume walking, only it’s not so bare anymore.

A few blocks down, Keiji feels a single drop on his arm. Within seconds, he and Bokuto have to run the rest of the street, Bokuto’s flannel shirt spread above their heads. The rain intensifies the second they make it under a store’s shelter. More people join them, pushing Keiji to stand closer to his captain. For a moment, Keiji’s elbow touches the Bokuto’s bare side, before the other drops his flannel shirt right above their heads, and shoves his hands into jeans pockets. 

“This sucks. Are the presents all good?” His head leans in, peering at the bags Keiji was given to hold in his arms.

“All good, captain.” Keiji doesn’t mention how he tripped earlier, when they ran; he tried to steal a peak at Bokuto’s raised arms, who had thrown the bags at him the second rain came falling on them. Bokuto hadn’t noticed the blunder of Keiji’s miserable feet coordination. At least he cannot stumble here. Watching people run by, Keiji tries to focus his senses on anything and anyone else. To no avail. The scent of summer right next to him, the warm skin touching his shoulder, Bokuto’s pleasant conversation, and his tender smile. All of it is taking over every inch of Keiji’s brain, while his eyes keep darting back to the ridiculous biceps close to his line of sight. 

“Bokuto-san, I understand today’s choice but, tighter-fitting shirts suit you better.” Keiji looks straight ahead, even as Bokuto leans in, brushing his shoulder. 

“You think?” Bokuto makes another sound, comprehending the remark. Keiji can only dare to hope he listens to it; he cannot deal with Bokuto showing off too much skin during the summer that is to come. Meanwhile, the rain pours down heavier by the minute. Pushing the piece of tartan out of his face, Keiji takes a glance. The station is just at the end of the street, but Keiji wouldn’t be the first to say it’s worth the run. He’s good where he stands, next to Bokuto. 

*~*~*

Water drops into the bath, the sound echoing in the tiled room. Keiji’s sigh follows suit. Sliding in the hot bath, he props his leg on top of the rim, watching drops of water travel on his right leg, as well as his new acquirement rolling over the joint there. 

“Shit.” The curse is a mere hiss, the same as when Keiji rams his head against the tiles, hissing in pain.

*~*~*

It’s hard to get past Bokuto when he stands at the entrance, blocking the way to the boy’s club room. Bag next to him, Bokuto’s eyes stare at the place he put Keiji’s ankle bracelet, today covered up by his school uniform. Unlike Keiji, Bokuto has his sleeves rolled up, the beads tight around his wrist. Of course he has to take it off later during practice, but for now, Keiji glances at it, avoiding eye contact with his captain.

“Excuse me.”

“Damn right you should be. Why aren’t you showing the owlet?”

Behind Bokuto is a first year named Takagi, undressing for practice, who tries to peek past him. “Owlet? Eh, a pet owl, for real?”

“As expected from the vice captain.” A classmate of his engages too, making Keiji feel put on the spot. Flustered enough having to deal with Bokuto this early, Keiji manages to step over the bag in his way, ignoring the other team members, while explaining to Bokuto how he didn’t think about it. The vibes he feels behind him indicate enough to know the excuse to be no good, but Keiji doesn’t dare to look behind him to check. It’s no use rolling his pipe up now anyway, so he continues to undress and put on his training clothes instead, ignoring the strange vibes behind him. 

Naturally, the whole team assembles on the court for warming up. Most of them are impressed that their captain actually starts the day in his dejected mode, without having done anything wrong yet within their sight. Bokuto flounders behind the rest when they do runs, instead of his usual front row motivational jumping and calling out to his team. His shoulders sag, bringing the whole upper body down as well, while his face is sad. Just like Keiji predicted, Bokuto had to put off the bracelet, which worsens the mood he’s having. While the spotlight focuses on Bokuto, Keiji’s anklet goes unnoticed by anyone. 

Sensing practice will be bad with their ace in this mood, their coach sends them on a longer, run outside instead. As their school is nearby the Komazawa park, the scenery so pretty that it’ll help anyone to put their minds elsewhere. Upon entering the uncrowded park, the core regulars discuss how Onaga’s classmates have given their first year a rather unfortunate nickname.

“Please don’t use it. I really dislike it.” Onaga pleads with his senpai, Konoha and Komi, who flank him. Although Komi is small in statue next to his teammates, he has no trouble keeping up with the pace of the long-legged people. 

“What kind of genius comes up with ‘Omonaga’, it’s kinda cool, don’t you think? And it suits your face anyway!” Komi slaps Onaga’s shoulder, who slumps at the prospect of having everyone call him ‘long-face-kun’. Konoha laughs, waving a hand in front of his face and promises not to, while he grins in a way anyone could interpret as a lie.

“What what what? Who is Omonaga!?” Bokuto falls back into their pace, his mood reviving once he thinks he can help his kouhai. Proclaiming over his shoulder that cool nicknames shouldn’t be disregarded, he then pledges to help. Konoha laughs harder, while Onaga tries to reason with Bokuto. Keiji doesn’t try to discourage, feeling glad enough the mood turns for the better. He watches the display of Konoha holding his stomach as he runs, and Bokuto yelling it's no laughing matter. 

Maybe he should keep an eye on Bokuto, Keiji contemplates, when Sarukui nudges him from the right.

“I think I saw that mood-swinging child take something like it off earlier but, it’s the same thing around your leg.” Sarukui’s eyes flicker to the ground, looking at Keiji’s feet. 

“‘s Not the same. He- we were shopping for Suzumeda-san yesterday and he ended up buying friendship- I mean.” Running and talking isn’t one of Keiji’s best abilities. Pumped up, Bokuto, Komi, and Konoha run ahead, pulling Onaga with them in their faster pace. Washio takes a look at the two staying behind, then bridges the gap to follow suit. Keiji focuses on his breathing (three counts inhaling, one count exhale, repeat), before he attempts to answer Sarukui. Keiji watches Komi race Bokuto up a hill. “Captain bracelets. I think he called them owlets.”

“Oooh, that’s nice. Now I get the ‘owlet’ thing.” Sarukui stays with him until they caught up with the rest, Onaga still trying to discourage Bokuto from doing anything rash.

_Good luck with that, owlet._

*~*~*

Done with lunch, putting his bento back in his bag lying on the floor next to his table, Keiji keeps in the bend forward position, breathing out for a second. He then rolls up the pipe of his pants hiding the ankle bracelet, standing up from his seat right after, as to distance himself from putting it back in order. The moment he turns around, his classmate Miyamoto looks up from her test results, sharp eyes going straight for his feet area. 

“Well that’s unusual for you, Akaashi-kun.” 

She isn’t the last. People he knows by face if not by name look at him and his bare right ankle, and he has to look away from those wondering glances who question him straight to face. It’s like this all the way to the third year corridor, where the teammates aside of Sarukui notice it as well. They as well tell Keiji how strange it looks, and how they didn’t expect him to wear that kind of thing in the first place. 

“I’d expect that style of Bokuto-san, or from Komi-kun here.” Washio says, recalling how Komi used to wear beads round his ankle in the previous years. 

“Yeah, I gave it to a classmate who moved before the third year started! He always said he thought it looked so cool, so I gave it to him as a farewell present.” Komi smiles at the group, then looks back at Keiji. “The captain also rolled up his sleeves and one side of his pants a lot during spring, I remember.”

“Apparently, it’s also our captain who-” Sarukui starts, mouth turned in a way Keiji knows for sure is a smile. 

“Excuse me.” Keiji walks past them, on his way to Bokuto’s class. He asks the nearest person at the entrance if they could call the wild child out for him. He can see Bokuto from here, but hides behind the doorway, figuring out something casual and vice-captain-like to talk about. Keiji doesn’t have to think too hard. Alike everyone else, Bokuto’s first reaction is to look down, this time happy and excited to see Keiji wear the gift. Unlike everyone else, he doesn’t think it doesn’t suit Keiji. 

Keiji had only come here for this little point, but getting all these emotions he had yesterday rush up from where he pushed them away, back into his throat and chest, he grumbles his apologies, saying he forgot to bring some important papers with him. Leaving doesn’t work the way he intents. Bokuto follows him out of his classroom, an arm slings friendly over Keiji’s shoulder, and pulls him into an unwanted direction. 

“Good you here anyway, I was just about to visit Onaga’s classroom.” It’s no use stopping him, even though Keiji tries. He concedes going with Bokuto, so he could at least attempt to cease the damage. 

Bokuto spills no time for politeness when he enters Onaga’s classroom, whose long face turns white. Standing rooted at the entrance apologizing, Keiji watches Bokuto zig-zagging to where Onaga sits, pulling him off his seat, and holding his shoulders, shaking him lightly in his own form of assuaging him. Ignoring Onaga’s silent pleas, deaf to Keiji calling his name, Bokuto takes everyone’s attention. 

“First years, little you may know, but our volleyball club is one of the best in the country. I myself have gone to nationals a few times, and I expect no less of Onaga-kun! Now, behold!” He puts his hands on Onaga’s face, one below the chin, and one on top of his hair.

“Just I have been in my own first year, this fine specimen, Onaga Wataru, has become our newest pillar. So far he has shown reason enough to stand proudly as part of the Fukuroudani boys volleyball club, a middle blocker whose talent doesn’t just factor in that he’s insanely tall! He’s plenty of good to have become a regular and neither of you can say the same. Instead of focusing on his face and on stupid nicknames, you should cheer him on the 9th of June, when our preliminaries start.”

Bokuto looks around him, hearing people giggle. “This is no laughing matter, young children-”

“You’re a child yourself, Bokuto-san.” Keiji finally speaks up in the matter, finding Bokuto’s tactics quite honorable, if brash. He’s used to being the center of attention, but Onaga isn’t quite there yet, even if they share the spotlight in matches. Calling Bokuto out backfires, as the latter is reminded of Keiji being there in the classroom with him. Keiji is unmoved when a finger points his way, although he fears the worst.

“No one of the volleyball club will stand for this. _I_ as the captain, and Akaashi over there-”

“...Wait a minute, don’t involve me.” Keiji shrinks when the eyes gazing his way. 

“-the vice-captain, won’t stand for any teasing of our cute owlets who are in their prime to become a bird of prey.” Bokuto ends it sinister, one eye squinting around the class, an arm slung around Onaga. The latter has has given up fighting his captain, blushing at the overflow of unwanted attention. 

Some girl near Keiji whispers how the boy’s volleyball club is really owl-obsessed, pointing out how ‘the vice-captain’ wears an anklet with an owl. Keiji feels an unpleasant heat rising across his neck, and he finds newfound energy to get Bokuto out of the class. 

Onaga is already lost, red in the face, when someone near him stands up and kindly twitters at him. 

“Oh, like the great grey owl? I see the resemblance, don’t you agree, Ayu-chan?” The girl speaking is tiny as she stands next to Bokuto and Onaga. Her long ash-brown hair tied in front and reaching her waist. She turns back to Onaga after getting a confirmation nod from her friend. Keiji walks behind the two girls, one standing and one sitting, to get Bokuto off Onaga. 

He notices something in the way Onaga’s eyes flicker back and forth from the ground he probably wished to sink into, to the girl with the tied hair, as if he contemplates there is yet a reason to live. For a moment, he loses his grip on Bokuto, as the thing he sees in Onaga’s behaviour is something he knows all too well. 

“Onaga-kun, you didn’t tell us you were playing in the prelims, that’s so cool!” The girl, which name Keiji doesn’t know, seems nice and optimistic. She leans forward in excitement. 

Keiji hears another commotion behind him, and he strides off after Bokuto. He wonders why he has to suffer taking care of this airhead, who tries to intimidate three guys standing in the corner laughing. In the struggle to make Bokuto stop bullying some first years, they both turn around in time to see Onaga rub his neck, the red in his face less, but still apparent. 

“I-it’s no big deal, Yukiko-san.” Onaga smiles, his shoulders bowing forward a little, as if he can actually make himself less tall this way. 

“But it is!” The girl named Yukiko slaps her tiny hand against Onaga’s arm, who acts as if she hurt him, rubbing his arm with a sheepish look. She puts her fists in front of her face, energized at the prospect to see a classmate play. “I’ll be there, then. Give me the details after the exams, okay? That way I won’t forget it.” 

Keiji finally gets Bokuto out of the classroom, who looks at the display with a fond daze. Outside, Keiji sighs, happy nothing bad happened at least. He sees Bokuto grin to himself. 

“Seems like I also helped Onaga-kun get a fan. Damn, I’m awesome. Let’s go back, Akaashi!” An arm slings around his neck again, and Keiji cannot even roll his eyes anymore. His palm and fingertips tingle from where he touched Bokuto, and he tries hard not to think about the scent of the fresh school shirt he wears, rolled up to his elbows, or the eased muscles beneath. He doesn’t look at the bracelet bumping against his chest, and ignores all the weird looks they’re getting from random first years in this corridor.

At least things like this work out fine for Onaga.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi tries not to be too obvious about his crush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so. so. sooooo damn sorry this took forever ;A; my beta just didn't seem to have the time and it was one thing after another... I actually had this chapter done at the same time as chapter 1 wwww
> 
> Hope it's still enjoyable~ And hopefully I can get the next chapters out quicker than half a freaking year.

Changing things up to make practice harder, Kuroo and Bokuto had decided to make them play four on four. It’s a joint practice at the start of what seems to be a troubling, hot June week, 10 days before the preliminaries start. Wishing to ensure that both teams advance as much as possible, it has been both captains wishes to hold joint practices instead of the normal ones. 

Keiji wouldn’t care seeing more of Nekoma’s team on any other day. He likes to study the other teams in the Fukuroudani group, especially any tricks or habits their setters may have. But it has been hot and wet all damn week. The evenings didn’t cool, and the open doors of the Nekoma gymnasium did little to make the court any less stuffy. On top of everything, Yamamoto and Nekoma’s new acquisition, a crazy tall half-Russian by the name of Haiba, bicker the whole time. As if the oppressive warmth wasn’t enough, they elevated the high tension by competing with each other. 

Feeling sorry for Kozume, who fares even worse with this warmth, Keiji also feels grateful that he doesn’t have to deal with troublesome energy coming from one hothead and one airhead. _They could combine to be an hot-air balloon…_

The whistle sounds, and Keiji is shaken out of his momentary day dreaming of hot-air balloons. Due to the weather circumstances and the tough training, they have to wipe the floor every so often. Keiji offered to do it on his own terms, since he needed a break from Bokuto and Komi, who tried matching up to the tension levels of Yamamoto and Haiba. The official reason he gave his team, was to let a first year practice against Nekoma, and try to see if any of the other first years have setter abilities in them.

While the floor is being wiped, the eight people hydrate. On every turn that makes Keiji walk the path towards the Fukuroudani guys, his eyes drift to Bokuto. He wasn’t able to hand him the bottle of water himself, as he was needed to wipe the floor as quickly as possible. Once he’s done with the Fukuroudani side of the court, Keiji falls back with the mop in his hands, leaning on it. Bokuto and Komi treat their current first year setter, Tamura, with lots of advice whenever he’s in the back row. The fourth man, Onaga, has to help Tamura in turn dealing with Bokuto’s moods and Komi’s hard slaps to the back. 

Keiji had always watched volleyball as a kid, even if he wouldn’t declare that he liked the sport above anything else. However, ever since he watched Usami Daisuke’s set up at the FIVB world cup in Japan, he had this tingling feeling in his fingertips whenever he watched another setter. It didn’t matter if it was pro-player like Usami, or a novice like Tamura. To not play the ball himself and stand on the sidelines created a very unique feeling all together. 

That is, it would have, some weeks ago. Keiji isn’t watching Tamura’s stance, about to set the ball. Unlike Tamura, Keiji watches Bokuto’s approach to the net. There’s a thrill, yes, but it flows throughout Keiji’s entire body, and it's not because of volleyball. His eyes fixate on Bokuto’s arms and legs, the skin visible, tense. It’s over in a moment, and Bokuto spikes the ball successfully to score another point. Before he turns to congratulate Tamura, Keiji drops his gaze to stare at the mop, swallowing his pride. 

He’s levels below Usami’s greatness, who had been named the ‘most spectacular player’ at the very same cup Keiji had watched him play. He tries to visualize the sets he committed to memory, when the stick of a mop raps at his shoulder, getting his attention.

“Say, Akaashi-kun, did you two have a fight?” Kuroo stands next to him, and Keiji has to parry the attacks with his own mop stick, before he can understand what Kuroo means. His shoulders shake, asking Kuroo to explain what he means. “You and Bokuto.”

“Not in the least. Why?” Keiji’s question is sincere. He and Bokuto didn’t have any troubles, except when they both had to clean up Onaga’s classroom last week after school. The first year brats Bokuto had threatened had gone to to principal, and since Keiji had been present too, he was made to share the punishment. But nothing of that matters now, since Keiji hadn’t minded Bokuto’s apologies, or how he played around with the bucket. Spending half an hour away from practice had been worth it, as Keiji remembers laughing at the even weirder nicknames than ‘Omonaga’, which they created for the brats who got them into this. 

“A hunch. You’re acting weird.” If Kuroo had anything more to say before Keiji could try to edge a word in, he’ll never know. The whistle sounds, and Kuroo shakes his shoulders, off to mop the floor at his side of the court, while Keiji needs a push from Bokuto. A sweaty hand to his spine, and he stumbles forward, trying to catch up to the speed at which Kuroo mops. 

He has to tell himself that Kuroo’s words mean nothing. Maybe he’s right, and Keiji had been spacing out a little when he watches Bokuto. He has to make sure to reign that in, somehow. For now, he knows the perfect solution. 

“Tamura-kun, take a break. I’ll switch in.”

*~*~* 

Between the two joint practices is a morning practice at the Fukuroudani academy, at which Tamura apologizes to Keiji, saying the setter position isn’t cut out for him. Keiji is sad that a good player like Tamura cannot see the cool things in being a setter, but says he understand.

“You know, it's not that I don’t think it's an uncool position, Akaashi-san! But, seeing the captain spike… I just really would like to focus on spiking.” Tamura bows, apologizing again for being so forward. Keiji waves it off, saying it's fine. After all, in comparison, Keiji has no trouble getting behind the idea that Bokuto’s strong spikes could bring anyone to favour the allure of the wing spiker position. 

The following evening, they have the joint practice match at Fukuroudani. It rains outside, and behind him, the teams warm up with frog jumps from one side of the court to the next. Keiji, who justifes not attending by making the team division for today’s four on four matches, sits behind the bench on the floor. Looking at the name tags he and Bokuto had made first thing at the start of the year, he grants Tamura’s wish. Keiji plays around with the team division, and puts Tamura and Washio together. Their coaches’ voice drawls in the gym to do another set of side to side shuffles on the line. Keiji’s happiness rises when he doesn’t have to do them. As a first year, he once slipped as he lost his balance crouching too much to the front. 

Bokuto bows over the bench Keiji sits behind, grabbing a water bottle to take a quick sip. Concentration diverts as it often does with Bokuto, who smiles when he places his own name tag with Konoha and Sarukui, adding a random second year from the pile of names. 

“You don’t mind, right? Kuroo requests three good wing spikers to make Haiba shut up a little.”

“You mean, make Haiba work harder to block.” Keiji looks at the second year whose allocation doesn’t please him in the slightest. 

“Comes down to the same, right? You can set for me when we switch it after the first half hour, of course!”

“Can’t. I have to-” Keiji had discussed it with Yukie and Kaori to find someone else who could be good as a setter. They’d both watch the plays of the first years, then use the second half of the hour to make them do set up training. Not playing and bouncing a ball against the wall in three different heights wasn’t fun, but it was the best way to see who had the eye and the technique for the job. 

“Oh, forget it Akaashi.” Bokuto ruffles through Keiji’s hair, downplaying his harsh tone. “You can wait till your third year, when you’re captain yourself. Then you can bully the new first years and create incredible new setters for Fukuroudani. For now, you’ll have to do!”

The joint practice starts, Keiji playing with Washio, Tamura and Takagi. The latter takes the role as a libero, which puts Keiji’s troubles for that position to rest, for now. 

 

Half time during training, Keiji walks out to the water basins behind the gym, cooling his skin off under the cold streaming water. Things with Tamura and Takagi are going good. Tamura really lights up when he spikes the ball, even if it doesn’t have much power, or the path line isn’t accurate. It’s a sign that Keiji shouldn’t be so uptight about finding a second setter, and heed Bokuto’s words to just wait it out for the next half year. Keiji doesn’t let his thoughts dwell on Bokuto too much, trying to keep his concentration high.

“You know, Akaashi-kun, if anything weird is going on between you and that idiot-owl, you’d best tell him. Being direct with him works better than waiting for him to understand your distress.” Kuroo turns the faucet to wash his hands and guide the wet fingers to his neck. Keiji regards him with an icy glare, while he hides behind the towel to dry his face. It’s no use being defensive about this, but he cannot help it. 

“I am not in distress. And Kuroo-san, are you his teammate, or am I? I think I have a good grasp of how to handle Bokuto-san.”

Kuroo grins. “Is that so?”

The crickets fill in the silent space, while Keiji hesitates if he should elaborate. Before either of them can say a word, they both suffer an attack from a sweaty Bokuto, whose arms take them both. Appalled by the stickiness, and both irritated since they _just_ cleaned up a little, they struggle in the hold. Bokuto releases Kuroo first with a push, the latter disgusted. 

“Hey Kuroo! What are you bugging my precious setter for?” Bokuto smiles, holding Keiji as if he’s protecting him. Keiji tried to shove Bokuto off him, trying not to be too gentle, when the word ‘precious’ becomes the single thing floating in his mind. 

“Tch, nothing more than usual. And definitely less than you do on a daily basis.” Kuroo smirks, while Keiji becomes preoccupied with his captain’s face and the grin he displays. Keiji doesn’t hear what Bokuto says, the word ‘precious’ demanding too much attention. He watches Bokuto for a moment, seeing the lips move. Keiji remembers in time that Bokuto is actually speaking to someone in their presence, and that he cannot space out like this while someone as watchful as Kuroo can see. 

“The fuck, you bastard. If you got nothing better to do, help your tall-ass kouhai for the two-man blocks.”

“What, is he letting them past him again!?” Kuroo, hand full of water and ready to splash Bokuto, turns the faucet off instead and turns to the gym, agitated. 

“Left, right, between his arms. Onaga even got a ball between Haiba’s chest and the net.” Bokuto continues praising Onaga as the better first year, but Kuroo’s attention; unwanted, angry attention, directs itself to his own kouhai instead. As they bicker on their way back, Keiji is left to stand behind, finally allowed to let his mind be filled with one single word.

Precious. 

 

The practice ends in a haze for Keiji. He manages to make decent plays, use each of the wing spikers, and blocks twice. Keiji keeps it cool when a dump shot he makes goes right past Kuroo. The only disturbance in his features happens when Bokuto stands close to praise him, his hands not stopping as he pets Keiji’s shoulders and repeats the words ‘Well done, Akaashi! You showed Kuroo alright!”

Breathing more easily once they resume playing, Keiji notices not only Kuroo’s, but also Kozume’s eyes on him most of the time. He doesn’t try another dump shot.

The play ends, their team victorious in the last play. Thirsty and needing some distance, Keiji takes his water bottle outside to drink it, stumbling over Kozume who had no stamina left in the last five minutes and had gone off court. Keiji regards him for a moment, then walks on, swallowing the water. He feels the watchful eyes burning into his back, so when he turns around, he cannot hold back the harsh snap, “What?”

“Nothing.” Kozume looks away, shy all of a sudden. 

Keiji makes himself think nothing of it, and distraction comes when the teams roll out to get more fresh air too. As the home team, Fukuroudani doesn’t mind cleaning up, and since most of the Nekoma players live further away in other Tokyo districts, they get ready to leave. It takes some time, the personalities at Nekoma more vibrant and harder to deal with. 

Dressed in their red jerseys, Nekoma bows and yells their good byes. Keiji stays at the side, watching Bokuto and Kuroo’s fifteenth attempt to come up with a cool, Western way of saying their greetings. The ‘handshake’ changes every time Keiji sees it, and they never end up liking it after all. 

“Bowing is just easier!” Bokuto laughs, bumping his fist against his own head

“I hear you, I hear you. But doing it somehow… it looks so cool, right.” Not giving up, Kuroo does a series of what Keiji thinks looks like jankenpon solo. At that moment, Kai and Yaku walk out of the gym. They stop discussing what they were talking about, as Yaku watches Kuroo’s arm and hand doing weird things. Kai turns to Keiji, and they exchange a silent good bye greeting, slight bows towards each other. Simple. 

Somewhere behind them, Keiji watches Washio, towel over his shoulders, talk to Fukunaga. Keiji’s curiosity drives him forward a little, purposely not looking at Bokuto as he walks past him and Kuroo. Seeing Fukunaga’s mouth move is a rare feat to behold, and Washio laughs at something he said. 

“What!? What what WHAT!?” Yamamoto rushes past, pushing between the two captains. Bokuto slams into Keiji, who’s unstable and glides, no grace to be noticed, to the ground. His water bottle rolls ahead, while Bokuto steadies himself behind him. Focusing on what the hell Yamamoto’s is so mad about, (and trying not to think about the feel of Bokuto’s warm and wide back when he brushed him),Keiji cleans the dirt off his knees off and collects his bottle, watching Yamamoto have a row with Washio. 

His teammate regards Yamamoto, icy and silent. Fukunaga waves Washio off, and they perform a secret handshake that actually looks like one. Kuroo stomps over to Yamamoto, slinging an arm around his head, and laughs when he rubs the blond fuzzy part of what once had been a fauxhawk. 

“You alright, Akaashi?” 

“Huh?” Keiji looks at Bokuto, inattentive of what he said. The caring look becomes hard to deal with face to face, and Keiji looks away. Then, a hand caresses his shoulder and back, the question this time coming through to Keiji. “...Yeah, I’m fine.” 

Behind Bokuto, Kuroo drags Yamamoto off, high-fives Bokuto’s head, and tells him to wash his hair before going to bed.

“What the- I always shower, Kuroo!” The moment is gone when Bokuto acts as if he’s gonna chase Kuroo off their grounds, while Yamamoto wails his back his hurting. 

“-ashi, hey, Akaashi.” 

Somehow his eyes are out of focus, returning to a state of consciousness by first seeing Onaga talk to two Nekoma first years. Keiji finds himself blinking at yet another presence, looking up to Washio. He takes a breath before answering as cooly as his voice lets him. “What is it?”

Washio stares at him, and Keiji opts for asking what Fukunaga said, when a loud yell comes from the side of the gymnasium where Bokuto and Kuroo are horsing around. Washio sighs, and Keiji sends him off to handle it. Happy when he has some space, he gets scared half to death when Kozume appears at his side, ready to leave. Keiji doesn’t say anything, this time waiting for Kozume to open his mouth and say what’s on his mind. Kozume doesn’t shy away from it, this time. 

“You seem distracted.”

“...No, I’m not.” He says it too fast, too defensive. Having a tickle in his throat, he clenches his water bottle and tries to drink from it. Except there is none left inside, just a few drops.

“The water spilled out when the bottle rolled away. Didn’t you notice?” Kozume walks ahead, the last one to follow his team. Keiji looks at him, his absent mind watching Bokuto laugh, as Washio breaks up an innocent fight between Yamamoto and Komi, over a joke Komi made, and repeats louder this time. 

“Your Fukunaga just likes us better than you. Deal with it, tiger cub.” 

“Akaashi, c’mere, c’mere!” Bokuto waves at him, laughing still. Keiji sighs, striding past Kozume, ignoring his entire existence. Bokuto slings an arm over Keiji, trying to stand upright and stop laughing, for as long as it takes him to explain Keiji what happened. “Listen, Fukunaga-kun made a joke about Yamamoto, because he always hassles him to talk more. And Yamamoto is angry ‘cause he didn’t hear it. Isn’t that ironic!?” 

Keiji smiles, but only because Bokuto’s laugh is affecting him. He keeps ignoring Kozume who walks past him, and Kuroo, who pushes Yamamoto in front of him, observing Keiji. 

*~*~* 

They did well during the preliminaries, won the little competition during the Summer trainings camp, but sadly lost in the semifinals at nationals. Nonetheless, Keiji doesn’t dwell on the last part, as the rest of the team’s focus and spirit doesn’t falter at the first training after their defeat. Outside their gym, the trees’ leaves become red and brown, some of them falling to the ground. The second half of the school year starts this week, and the team's bond thrives on becoming better and winning the spring tournament. This thirst to keep evolving establishes when Komi jumps on Bokuto’s back.

“I wanna learn to set from the back row! Imagine if we could do pipe penetration and other cool stuff like that, using me.” The energy of their libero easily hypes up their ace, as well. Their moods often tandem, probably because they have classes together, and they tend to hang out a lot. 

“Yes, that sounds excellent. Let’s get right to it!” Bokuto waves to Keiji, as if he’s apologizing for leaving him. Keiji gives a single shake and they’re off, Bokuto running to the other side of the net. Komi is still on his back, his arms raised.

“Omo- I mean, Onaga! You’re gonna receive for us.” 

Onaga moans, showing the face of a boy who had thought he had been freed from his unfortunate nickname. He rolls his eyes, hoping that his team will not start calling him ‘Omonaga’. Keiji had seen him wave to Yukiko during their Interhigh matches. From what he heard afterwards, she had dragged more and more people to the matches, the further Fukuroudani advanced. In the end, no one was able to call Onaga by a displeasing nickname anymore. Alas, now the volleyball club had a tough time _not_ calling him that. 

Keiji wants to join their training, only to play against Bokuto and make sure he won’t forget whose set ups he likes the best. He and Sarukui are both waiting for Yukie, however, who had some business with the girl’s volleyball club manager. 

Like Keiji, Sarukui watches the three teammates play; Komi missing more balls than getting his hands on them. Although he beats himself up over it, Bokuto reassures him with a loud voice, making sure Komi won’t give up on something he just recently became interested in doing. Next to him, Sarukui voices the exact thing Keiji is thinking about: that need to become even more valuable to the team.

“I’m seriously proud of our team’s hunger to develop. I mean, we didn’t do all too shabby at nationals. That other team was crazy.” Sarukui snorts, but Keiji can tell he isn’t laughing, even if his mouth looks otherwise. “I guess it’ s another reason why our team is so strong, even when our ace sulks.”

Making a non-committing sound to that, Keiji watches Komi’s numerous attempts to jump and set at the same time. When it works, Bokuto spikes the ball perfectly, and Onaga has a hard time receiving those few good-flowing combinations. Komi’s quick sets impress Keiji, who has no time to feel jealous when Sarukui suggest they’re good without Bokuto. He eludes him to make it seem like that, calling to Komi to watch his feet before he jumps, not just the ball. Huffing a laugh next to him, Sarukui pulls his knee brace up to cover his knee. 

Yukie arrives, giving them a cd the girls volleyball club made for them, showing their next opponent. They have a few practice matches coming up at other schools in the north, and the girls team had been there before them. 

“Well, it's no use standing here and letting them have fun. Let’s help Komi-yan.” Sarukui walks in front of him, and Keiji follows suit, putting the practice matches in the back of his head for now. Sarukui waits until they’re side by side, both of them watching Komi’s set ups become more frequent on going the right path. He still needs some tweaking, as his feet sometimes cross the third meter line when he jumps. Sarukui sees it too, but neither of them bring Komi down when Bokuto praises him.

“Of course, we’re five times stronger when our ace is at his best.”

To this, Keiji finds himself agreeing. “Yeah, definitely.”

 

Practice went really well today. Komi was able to use his new set up technique in an intern match which had ended a few minutes ago. Keiji had also helped in the group flattering him, since he learned to jump at the proper moment and on the line, too. 

Their managers hand out flavoured sports drinks. Once he got his (white peach), Keiji walks off to the side, ignoring Konoha and Washio fighting over a particular banana-flavoured drink. 

Taking one of the numerous strawberry-flavoured bottles, Bokuto joins him, laughing at the display where Washio is the obviously stronger one. “Idiots.”

“Says our noble leader.” Keiji wipes his mouth, eyes diverted from Bokuto. 

“Keh! What’s that supposed to mean, Akaashi?” 

“Nothing much.” Being vague and teasing Bokuto is an easy combination which Keiji uses from time to time. Something pops up in the back of Keiji’s mind. _Direct_. Kuroo’s advice at how to approach Bokuto, advice he had given to Keiji some months ago. He didn’t pursue any of his baser feelings, the club demanding his best capabilities as a setter. Keiji looks at the drink in his hand, reminded of a day in May, when Bokuto didn’t finish a sentence regarding what he’d like in the soap store. 

Waiting until Bokuto is done drinking half the bottle in one go, Keiji walks with him outside, taking a breather before their cool down and clean up would start. 

“So, is strawberry your favourite flavour, with sports drinks?” Keiji doesn’t think so himself, since that store where they bought Kaori's gift had a large quantity of strawberry scented things. He watches Bokuto tilt his head in thought, fingers on his chin. Keiji cannot help but think how cute he looks when he tries to look intellectual and thoughtful. 

“Now that you ask, I actually prefer blueberries a lot. They’re high in bacterials. No wait- antioxidants! Yes, antioxidants.” Bokuto is pleased with having only one mispronunciation of the word, which Keiji vaguely remembers learning in middle school (five kanji words aren’t as hard as anyone proclaims them to be, after all). He doesn’t dwell on it right now, since Bokuto’s face lights up thinking about the berry fruit. “Ah, but they don’t have that flavour. I just asked Suzumeda-chan, and I’ve looked for it before, too.” 

“It’s typical for you to like something special. Too bad it doesn’t exist.” Keiji takes a sip of his own drink, and nods when Bokuto says it's nice to have one’s favourite fruit being put incorporated a lot of food stuffs.

“Crap, I’d love to eat some blueberries now. Damnit, you’ve got me all excited for them, Akaashi.” Not too resentful, Bokuto pats Keiji’s arm, then goes back inside, unknowing that Keiji brushes the spot where Bokuto’s warm palm brushed past. Keiji watches him go, reflecting on how he didn’t pursue what he wanted in the last few months. Preoccupied with other things, he also finds it more important to get to know Bokuto even better. He never bothered to ask basic questions, but now he can make it look like random bouts of curious interest, without being too obvious. 

 

Later, Keiji reflects that knowing isn’t always a good thing. Blueberries are damn expensive. He squints at the price, offended by the amount of zeros, then regards his glare to the 300 gram package in his hand. “Fuck you. Why are you this expensive?” 

Keiji gets enough money from his parents, who put a lot of thought into his education and well-being. But 1100 yen for blueberries is kinda blowing up his weekly allowance. Looking around, it ranges amongst the most expensive fruits the store has, too, without counting the fruits gifts for special occasions at the end of the aisle. He cannot shake the feeling that buying and giving these to Bokuto would count as an offering to a god, with that price. Thinking about the current money in his pockets, and how his basket already has other expensive stuff, his plans threaten to dissolve into non-being. The protein powder is something he bought also for himself, to get his power levels to a higher setting. The chia seeds are also crazy priced, but at least he wouldn’t need as many of them. 

There’s a cost for love, Keiji ponders, second-guessing the choices that brought him here (and the inevitable choice his heart made months ago). It isn’t pride or about the self, it's even more stupid than that. It’s 1100 yen for 400 grams of blueberries. 

“Gah!” His heartbeat thumps in his throat when Washio appears next to him. Wordlessly, his teammate takes the berries, and puts them back on the pile Keiji took them from to inspect what the hell the whole fuss was about. About to protest, Keiji is then shoved out of the fresh produce part of the store, and into the aisle of frozen goods. 

“Washio-senpai, what the-” 

“Take these.” Washio opens the freezer, and hands Keiji a large pack of frozen blueberries. 

“Hya, that’s cold!”

“Its also less expensive. A lot of people prefer them frozen and,” Washio looks at Keiji’s shopping basket. Apart from the powder and the seeds, there’s also yogurt and milk. “They’re good when you blend them.” 

Washio bows before he leaves, saying he’ll see Keiji around tomorrow. Left standing there with a 1 kilogram load of blueberries, Keiji’s nose scrunches up at the cold feeling numbing his hands. He endures, thanking the gods for the bringing him someone as convenient a teammate who lives close by, and who's smart and can anticipate what people want on the court and outside of it. 

*~*~* 

The next morning, bringing everything inside the club room goes smoothly. Dealing with what happens afterwards, not so much. 

The questioning stares of the whole team heat up Keiji’s neck. Disregarding the thought of cooling it with the frozen berries in his hand, he puts them down instead, continuing to assemble the blender for work. There’s ooh’s and aah’s, silent questions to what has brought this up whispering behind him, not one directed to his person. 

Once he doesn’t have to touch the sharp blades of the blender, Keiji turns his head to them, irritation seeping through. Using every fiber of his authority as the vice captain. “Don’t you people have anything better to do?”

The regulars, some feisty first years, and the team managers look back at him. ‘Not right now we don’t’, they seem to say. Someone in the back pipes up that it isn’t everyday that their clubroom becomes the home of cooking utilities. As much as Keiji planned this yesterday night, he didn’t factor in that the rest of the club would be present too. He considered making the blended juices at home, but ‘the fresher the better’ had triumphed. As if all this attention wasn’t enough, Bokuto enters too.

“What’s all this, what the hell are all of you standing in the way for?” He tries to look over the heads of some second years, his head bobbing this way and that way to make out what’s so interesting. “I heard the word ‘blender’. Do we have a foreigner with us today!?” 

Bokuto jokes about a ‘Brenda’, still left to wonder what this ruckus means. Keiji stiffens when Tamura explains what Keiji had brought with him. In a matter of seconds, Bokuto pushes the crowd aside, to stand next to Keiji, face beaming a tick to bright for Keiji to handle in this moment. His arm brushes past Keiji to take the berries, which he drops with a ‘Hyuuu, so cold!’

“Akaashi!” Bokuto sing-songs his name, in this elongated fashion. Keiji cannot help but feel that he’s got caught in the act. Nothing less is true, of course, since the bigger part of the club is present. “This is not even close to enough for everyone, not even!” 

Finally, the group dissolves to do what they came here to do, under direct order of Washio. He and Konoha start undressing and unpacking their training clothes. Konoha nods to Bokuto, looking at the blueberries. “Given the opportunity, our Bokuto would finish that pack, two days or less.”

“Wh-what!? I wouldn’t. Didn’t I just say it wouldn’t be enough for us, stupid!?” Bokuto clutches at his chest, horrified how people can say something like this after standing up for them. Everyone laughs, while Keiji’s spirits hang in the balance. 

“Say, you lousy brats, did your parents pack you some fruits for lunch? Hand them over to your captain! We can use Akaashi’s blueberries as a base, and can make excellent smoothies for us all.”

The excitement rises, and the girls say that they have oranges. From all corners, people offer up what they have, most prominent bananas, and even one avocado. Keiji demoralization begins as his plan unravels, especially since this whole mess stops him from doing what he’d set out to do. Training starts soon, and Washio whips them all into moving downstairs. 

The final damp comes when the girls pipe up “Leave it to us!” Keiji hopes his face hides it well, but is unwilling to leave his idea to anyone. When he doesn’t follow Bokuto, the second to last man in the room, out of the club room, Yukie and Kaori start to push him with combined forced, enabled by his politeness not to fight back. His junior smirks, as Keiji finally being pushed over the threshold.“Don’t worry, Akaashi-senpai. We can handle it.” 

“Of course it’s every kouhai’s ultimate dream to make something nice for their esteemed, if empty-headed, senior.” Behind Kaori, Yukie gets to work on cutting the fruit, not yet touching the bag of blueberries. 

“You need to try harder, or at least be quicker about it, maybe more secretive?” 

There’s so much to object against that Keiji cannot even say a single word, just sputter in his defense. Trying to find words, they die on his lips unspoken. The coach calls out to him to hurry up or do five extra rounds. Keiji leaves, annoyed, murmuring “Why did I research all the recipes for…”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During practice, at home and away, Akaashi falls further into his love-filled pit of hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ･ᴗ･̥̥̥ ) I'm so upset that it takes me forever to write and have a beta check it. Sorry Reffie!! The good news is, I'm on chapter 4 and most of it is written ;A;
> 
> Team-dynamic heavy fic~ I enjoy writing all the owls, sooo much. Hope whoever reads it likes it tooo~~~and sorry for the slowest ever updates. I always looked down on people who would let their fic sit and simmer, but (-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩-̩̩̩_-̩̩̩-̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩) now I've become one of them.

Keiji falls into a dead silence while the other end of the room erupts in cheers and happy shouts. His eyes glance from glass to glass, their colourful contents being brought to eager hands, vanishing swiftly into the team’s guzzles. Next to Keiji, Washio watches the scenery of the second round of smoothies being distributed post-evening practice. Yukie and Kaori deserve every compliment on most days in Keiji’s book, but he cannot help disliking the credit they’re getting today. He feels all his plans have been thwarted, and the silent presence of Washio next to him doesn’t help. 

It goes without saying that Washio has connected the dots. He is also a man who doesn’t say unnecessary things, and you would never find him stating the obvious. Instead, he looks down to Keiji, who can feel his senpai’s eyes asking the things he cannot answer. 

On the other side, Bokuto drinks one glass of pure blueberry juice after the other, yelling out how tasty it is. The true cut through Keiji’s soul happens when Bokuto cannot keep his mouth shut about it.

“I can’t believe it! It was only yesterday that I felt like ‘If only I had blueberries’!” The wide smile on his bright face has the habit of making good things happen inside of Keiji’s chest. Today it leaves nothing but bitterness, and the aftertaste of a lost opportunity. It’s not as if performing simple gestures would have helped Keiji’s situation or have him confess his undying love, but it could have done _something_. Ignoring Washio coming closer, using his Superman eye-beam on him, Keiji sighs. His shoulders droop and for a moment he feels like Kozume. 

“I think I’m going home.” Keiji whispers more to himself than to the humanized rock in the waves standing next to him. 

“I am sure Bokuto would want to do-”

“-more practice, I know. Komi-san surely can help him out.” Keiji felt the old reluctance to let Komi set for Bokuto fall away. It’s as if their gymnasium was poisoned and brought Keiji’s motivation down to a minimum. He’s never been unwilling to set for Bokuto, even when ‘just five times’ became ten sets, or ‘just three more, Akaashi!’ ended in thirty more tosses. From day one of entering Fukuroudani, Keiji wanted to be useful and work on his setter skills, and nothing had helped him more than the overjoyous and zestful wing spiker, whose energy levels weren’t just boundless; they also raised the team’s, and therefore the setter’s morale to keep on going.

“Sooo tasty. Aah, I should stop drinking them.” Bokuto puts the glass down, thanking the managers once more for their work. Keiji’s morale drops to his lowest, and he makes the turn before Bokuto can spot him. He knows, once that arm goes around his neck, he wouldn’t be able to deny Bokuto anything.

“I’m leaving first. Thanks for today.” Keiji mumbles to Washio, who tries to reel him back in simply by staring. Exiting the gym, Keiji sighs and hopes the cool air can do something for his head, which feels like it is on fire. He walks towards the clubroom, thinking about the owl anklet at the bottom of his bag. He puts it on and off as he pleases, liking the feel of the beads on his ankle. Tonight, he won’t put it back on, though, only wishing to eat one rice ball before he goes home. Clubroom door in sight, he hears loud footsteps catch up to his slower pace. 

It’s not just an arm around the shoulder; Keiji doubles over when the weight of nearly 80 kilograms rams into his back, and two strong, sweaty, _warm_ arms loop around his chest. It’s enough to make Keiji cry.

“Aka~ashi! Where are you going? Practice isn’t over yet.” When Bokuto speaks, the smell of blueberries wafts into Keiji’s face, a sweet taste of his bitter defeat. Even when Keiji tilts his head away from Bokuto as to not look at him, the other scents surround him like a coat of armour. It’s the warm summer days, endless hours on the court, being half-dead and dying in a third set you’re about to lose, but getting hope again. Bokuto’s scent reminds Keiji of volleyball and victory and pure joy.

“It ended when the coach said we were done for today, Bokuto-san.” Keiji hates to lose, even though today’s mishap wasn’t that bad. As if a fire lights under him, he remembers the pain in his thighs and the wish to stop setting and getting his tosses blocked. And it’s always Bokuto who gets him back into the fight. It’s not as if Keiji doesn’t have the fighter’s mentality of being beaten down and always getting back up; he wouldn’t be here at this school, nor doing his damn hardest every week, if he was lacking in that department. Giving up is for other people, not for a team that battles on the national circuit.

“Pfft, Akaashi, c’mon. That doesn’t mean _our_ practice is done. When has it ever!? We always do extra, ne!” Bokuto shifts his weight a little to the side of Keiji’s back, trying to make eye contact which Keiji denies vehemently. He hopes the reluctance in his tense body would convey the message. The arms are still around him, constricting his movement. He could try to move, but Bokuto being in this state, wouldn’t let him. “Hey, are you hurt maybe? I mean, you would say so if it that’s the case, right? Or did you hurt yourself just a few minutes ago? Hey,”

Bokuto’s worry is enough to break Keiji down, who cannot lie. Shaking his head, he balls his hands to fists, feeling the bitterness rise in his throat.

“I thought Komi-san would like to practice tossing and that you wouldn’t need me, so.”

“Hah!?” Leaving Keiji’s back, Bokuto comes to stand in front of him. The warmth from his chest going to Keiji’s spine shifts to his hand, which are now holding Keiji’s arms, shaking him when he speaks. “What’s that's supposed to mean, ‘wouldn’t need you’- what nonsense! I always need you, Akaashi, you’re my setter!” 

Bokuto rattles on, not letting go of Keiji, who makes the mistake of glancing up to him. His mind goes places and he doesn’t really hear what Bokuto spouts in his alarmed state, but it makes him smile.

“-and I wouldn’t even think of replacing you. Akaashi, hey- hey are you having a fever? Why are you smiling?”

“Nothing, Bokuto-san. I am sorry to have made you worry…” It’s no use. Keiji is being pushed back, then turned, and the warm hands press into his shoulder blades, bringing him back to the entrance of the gym. He doesn’t stop protesting Keiji’s words. Bokuto doesn’t leave his side until Keiji’s volleyball shoes are on his feet, and his feet back on the gym’s floor. His right arm, his spike arm, goes around Keiji’s neck and shoulder at last, reeling him in close. 

“You belong here, right! Next to me.” The smile he gives Keiji is wide, brilliant, showing so many white teeth that it blinds Keiji. When Bokuto runs off to the net, Keiji watches his strong-looking back, then his gaze shifts to Washio standing close by, watching him. His senpai doesn’t have to say a word, as Keiji already knows one thing for sure.

He’s doomed.

*~*~*

At the end of the Summer break, when the season starts to change, their volleyball club heads over to Nekoma for a last joint-practice session. The idea was to travel by train. A local stop nearby Konoha goes all the way to the other school, and Keiji has been waiting with most of the others for their last person to arrive. They cannot go to Nekoma without their ace, afterall. 

“God, what’s taking that birdbrain so long?” Konoha fumes. As he lives close by, he has waited the longest for everyone, and his patience was known throughout this district to be unstable, to say the least. It knew waves of kindness and understanding for the elderly and young, but was ruthless towards people in his own age group. Above all, Konoha didn’t suffer dilly-dallies, even less so if no reason for the lateness was known.

“Oi, we agreed not to use bird-cusses when we’re dealing with Nekoma, remember?” Komi says, who took every chance he could get for a nap, or at least to chill out while they were delayed. First thing upon arrival, he had thrown his bag on the bench nearby, and lay down on it to soak in the sun, the trouser pipes of his Fukuroudani track suit jersey rolled up to his calves. The strap of his messenger bag covered his eyes like an eyemask, but wasn’t thick up enough to go all the way over his eyebrows. “We have to deal with Yamamoto’s newest insults including bird puns already. No need for in-fighting.”

“He’s not answering his phone.” Sarukui mentions out of nowhere, putting his phone and both his hands in his pocket. Unlike Konoha, who simply hated waiting, Sarukui had an issue with coming late. Out of the whole school, he was surely the most punctual one, Konoha coming in second. While Konoha would fume with anger, Sarukui became a nervous wreck, checking the street and tilting his head to get a better a look. Washio remained the only one at ease, revealing no emotion and offering the most simple explanation.

“Maybe he is already there.”

Keiji blinks and looks up to Washio, then takes out his phone and calls Fukunaga. Kozume would have been the safest to call and get information from, as he was usually the quickest to pick up, but on days like this, Kozume would also be late to come and actually be there. Fukunaga picks up after the third ring, saying nothing.

“Hello, Fukunaga-san. Uh, is Bokuto-san there, perhaps?” Keiji listens to what sounds like the shift of a phone, and hears volleyball sounds. Then Bokuto’s loud voice travels over from the device, making everyone nearby, at his end and at Keiji’s side groan. 

_”Spiked past you,_ again _, Kuroo. Hah! Are you even awake yet!?”_

Quickly thanking Fukunaga over the phone and hanging up, Keiji gets ready with everyone else to leave. While Komi laughs and tries to calm down an angry Konoha and a sighing Sarukui, agitating both more as he moves slowly off the bench. Keiji walks ahead towards the trainstop. Kaori falls into step with him, offering to take a run to make sure they don’t miss the train.

“When I shout ‘Hurry up!’, you guys run for it.” She says, holding the strap of her bag and runs up the steps of the train station. Half the team is still in an annoyed state, while the rest perk up as they’re finally moving. Keiji, meanwhile, looks down at his phone, seeing one message on his display. He hadn’t wanted to look as nervous as Sarukui earlier, and so didn’t check his own phone. If something was up, Bokuto would have called and he’d hear that. However, the message must have come without him noticing. 

_Please don’t be a message from Bokuto, please don’t be a message from Bokuto, please don’t be a message from-_

**Received:** 7:39  
**From:** Bokuto  
**Subject:** HEY HEY HEEEY  
**Message:** I woke up super early this morning and decided to get ready, so I’m heading towards Nekoma! Kuroo is also up! We’re gonna do some pre-match training before we officially start. You’ll join, right!? See you at the station- 

Kaori’s voice cuts through Keiji before he can read the rest. While he runs, he can’t believe he missed that message somehow. In his pursuit to not get attached to wishful thinking, Keiji had neglected to actually check his phone for any messages from Bokuto this morning. Others might argue he was too sleepy to look at it, but when he arrived and Bokuto wasn’t at the meeting point, he just didn’t want to immediately check his phone. He hopes that he can keep this mistake under wraps from the team, as he runs up the steps. Washio and Komi are faster and speed past him, both able to catch the train and help Kaori to keep the doors open for the rest. 

They somehow make it without further incident, and Keiji checks to make sure no one was left behind. The train starts and he profusely apologizes to the few other passengers, feeling the heat run down his back in the form of drops of sweat. 

 

When they finally arrive at Nekoma, Keiji stalks ahead, checking the time. They’re 18 minutes later than planned, and he has no new messages from Bokuto about it. At least they didn’t need to waste more time changing, as they all had worn their jerseys underneath the track suits. 

“Place your stuff wherever there’s space.” Keiji tells them, then enters the gymnasium with a loud hello and bows. When he stands up straight, his reflexes react quickly to the ball aimed at his chest. He catches it, no problem, then looks ahead to where Bokuto stomps towards his, his face set to ‘stormy’.

“A-ka-a-shi!” He punctuates every syllable with a stomp, his girth wider than usual. Keiji keeps his expression calm, then throws the ball over his head.

“Bokuto-san,” he responses, setting the ball all the way from the entrance to the net. It’s like watching a dog running after the ball; Bokuto’s eyes glance skywards without thinking, and he turns his body around to run after the flying volleyball. Doing a perfect run up and spiking it mid-air and onto the other side of the court. The distraction serves at two sides. Not only is Bokuto away from the team and out of speaking range, the rest of the team laughs and hurries up, ready to join up and actually play. Keiji greets a few of the Nekoma guys with an apologetic bow, then pulls at Bokuto’s arm before the other can speak.

“I am very sorry, Bokuto-san. I didn’t see the message until it was too late…”

“Damn, really! It’s because you have no girlfriend, Akaashi. People with a loved one check their phones more often, Kuroo just told me.” Bokuto beams as if this knowledge is useful, while Keiji dies a little on the inside. He doesn’t dwell on it, and instead explains how they barely caught the train and Keiji hadn’t told the rest of the team of him messing this up, and he apologizes again. A large hand clasps his shoulder, and a wide grin makes Keiji feel better in an instant. 

“Apology accepted! And don’t worry about it so much, Akaashi. Just toss to me the first seven times in a row. I’m on a roll today, you won’t believe it.” Bokuto grins, not listening to Keiji who says that only tossing to Bokuto, and so often after each other, would cause them problems. On the other side, he definitely believes it when Bokuto says he’s in the zone. Being the fastest in undressing and dressing, Keiji takes his time to appease his captain and ace as much as possible, before he joins the rest of the team for their official warm up. 

Bokuto, whose muscles should be warm already, joins them too. He has his own appeasing to do with the team, as he covers for Keiji’s mistake. It’s not as if Bokuto is a good liar, but his sunny attitude and protection of the team shine through his words, which he twists a little to help Keiji out. 

“I was too excited to let you know, sorry! I knew you guys would figure it out, somehow.”

“Well if it wasn’t for Washio-” Konoha starts, but Bokuto steams over his words and goes to Washio, showing his double thumbs up.

“Well done, Washio! Excellent thinking and just in time, too! Really great. Okay guys, seems like we’re on receiving duty, let’s go!” The fast speech and the clapping of his hands has everyone get into gear and line up. On the other side of the net, Kuroo does the same, but they’re spiking. Keiji stays at the net, ready to toss all the receives his team will send him into a ball basket.

On the other side of the net, Kozume gives him a sneaky glance. It happens a few times, even as they’re fully into warming up. When they change the setup (Fukuroudani attacking and Nekoma receiving), Keiji takes his time to confront Kozume about it.

“...What?” Keiji says a bit cut. He’s on good terms with Kozume most of the time, but as they’re both second years who practice together often, he holds nothing back in his sharp-sounding words. Kozume turns away, acting as if he is staring at Yaku kicking Lev, making the tall first year stand on the back line, about to do most of the receives. On his own side, Keiji hears Komi laughing, but he doesn’t take his eyes of Kozume. “What is it?”

“...You’re more fired up today, aren’t you?”

The whistle of the young Nekoma coach goes off, and Keiji has to watch the first of his team, Sarukui, throwing a ball at his direction. He tosses it away from the net, knowing that Sarukui likes to hit easy balls close to the 3rd meter line on the opponent’s side. It also makes it harder for Lev to get those balls and break his spirit before they even start. Once the action is executed to perfection and Keiji receives Sarukui’s compliments, he turns to Kozume.

“Not really,” He answers the question which has more been like a knowing statement. Keiji had to be on his toes today, as Kozume’s watchful eyes might see through what is happening. It wouldn’t do if anyone knew about it, even less so before Keiji would be able to talk about his feelings to the one who is responsible for them.

“Here I go!” That one person yells, throwing his ball up high. Keiji has to shift his stance a little to receive the ball on the tops of his fingers, but he does it with ease. In a match, he’d set the toss behind him, but as they have to slam the ball to one side of the other’s court, he tosses it to the same direction as the previous one. The arc is higher, making the ball drop closer to Keiji than the previous one, which had been further away. He watches Bokuto’s form, the spine arching back, feet up in the air and the arm pulled back. The spike thunders through the gym, and Lev can’t even get close to touching it before it hits the ground.

Tossing the ball so close to himself, Keiji revels in the closeness of Bokuto, who holds his arms up for the high tens. Keiji responds without thinking, keeping his face leveled. He feels good about himself, and wonders if all he needs is a good match to keep his mood up, and to confess to Bokuto.

 

The matches go well for their team. They’re playing their second match after winning the first one, and are currently in their second set, leading 21-16. Keiji stares into nothing, making the fingers on his right hand, held behind his back, sign towards Onaga. The first year hasn’t gotten into much action this evening except for blocking and jumping for decoys, and there’s a few things both Keiji and Onaga had wanted to try out in actual matches. Bending his knees as the referee's whistle for the serve is heard, Keiji watches the back court of Nekoma move. The attack’s receive is handled through Komi, and Keiji’s hands reach up into his tossing stance. Both Onaga in front of him, and Washio running up from the backcourt, do their approach at the exact same time. There’s nothing wrong during the toss, but after Onaga spikes, the landing goes wrong.

Keiji’s instincts as a setter of a team aiming for nationals are nothing like the instinct of being the vice captain of such a team and needing to deal with someone who is younger than him. Instead of making sure that they got the point, he looks to Onaga, whose face shows signs of concern and pain. Cussing low under his breath, Keiji rushes to Onaga’s side, calling for a time out. The whistle tells him they got the point, which may as well could be caused by Nekoma being distracted or otherwise their fair play, and the time out whistle follows.

The way Onaga’s left leg trembles under the strain of holding him upright amplifies Keiji’s worries. Washio is at his side, and together they help Onaga off the court, who apologizes for being a nuisance. They sit him down on the bench, Keiji motioning to the rest of the team to stay on the court.

“I was focusing too much on the spike course than the landing and slipped,” Onaga explains, his shoulders rising to his ears. The image has become known for three different things: Onaga being embarrassed and thinking that he, as one of the tallest first years in Fukuroudani, could hide himself. The second being when he was surprised. At last, he would show this stance not only in apology, but as if he was getting ready to hear the fatal words of having to leave the court. Keiji knew he wouldn’t want to, and would protest, but they couldn’t have that. 

“I can keep playing.” Onaga says, about to stand up, but Keiji sighs and shakes his head. Washio puts his hand on Onaga’s shoulder and makes sure he stays seated. 

“Listen, you could hurt yourself worse if you keep playing.” Keiji orders, and feels thankful for their managers. Yukie runs over with a wet sack, which contains ice. Kaori is already on Onaga’s lower leg, removing his shoe. “Sit this one out.” 

They make it a quick win. Once they take the last set, the team doesn’t celebrate as loudly as they would, and Bokuto’s usual ‘hey hey heeey!’ doesn’t echo through the hall. They go straight to Onaga, who gives them a faint smile. Kaori kneels down next to him, holding a large ice pack over his left leg. There is a violent blue bruise forming beneath. Before their youngest regular can say anything about it, Bokuto bows forward, inspecting the injury. He had been held back by Keiji before, who knew how Bokuto, problem #13, could anguish over his teammates and thinking that it was his fault. 

He has a much clearer, more adult-like head when he doesn’t have to play.

“You’ve been doing faster run ups a lot lately, haven’t you? Onaga-kun, your body is still developing, and you shouldn’t overdo it.” Worried, agreeing murmurs follow Bokuto’s words, and Onaga lets his head hang. He doesn’t like being put on the spot or having a lot of people standing around him, which is why Keiji had made them stay on the court earlier. It’s also why he has to make them back off now, too.

“Captain, how about cooling down?” Keiji suggest, and Bokuto sighs in agreement. Before he leaves, he pats Onaga’s head, then holds the back of it. 

“We need you for the Tokyo playoffs, you know that, right? Focus on getting better, and take extra care in stretches and stuff!” Bokuto’s victorious smile would help anyone get back on their feet, but Onaga’s smile isn’t quite the one the captain and vice are looking for. Behind their backs, Washio and Konoha lead the team into stretches. Keiji turns to look at them, seeing Washio’s concerned face. Washio, who tries not to watch his block disciple crumpled on the bench. Out of all the senpai, Onaga had befriended Washio the quickest, a rare feat. 

“There’s the match against Kaisei academy next Sunday…” Onaga grumbles, looking at his leg as if staring it down would help at all. Kaori sighs and pats his arm, while Keiji cannot find the right words. He knows how hard it is having to sit out during a match when all you want is to get better, to work harder, to play for hours and have it translate to progress, which leads to a win.

Bokuto leans over this time, both his hands on Onaga’s shoulders. Keiji can only imagine what sort of positive energy flows through those hands, channeling past boundaries and hoping to reach Onaga. Bokuto’s silences are rare treats, garnered respect from the rest before Onaga had become a part of their team. Past all the faults he has in his mood swings and brash loudness, he also carries a sort of silent power that comes from being an ace. It makes people face him with admiration, and from his team it inspires a certain kind of devotion. Onaga takes some time before he is able to look up to Bokuto, ready to hear whatever his captain has to say.

“Play offs, remember? You will have plenty of opportunity to show off your skills there, and have your girlfriend cheer for you!” 

“Sh-she is not my girlfriend!” Onaga’s sadness makes a quick getaway to let not only surprise, but utter embarrassment range over the length of his features. Stressed, he looks at Kaori, who shakes her head laughing, then to Keiji, who looks somewhere else. Onaga’s voice becomes louder, more his usual self. “When Yukiko-san comes to matches, she cheers for everyone on the team, not just- not just for me.” 

“Yeah, right.” It’s the combined, monotone force of eight individual voices who form one whole as they speak. It includes Keiji, who doesn’t believe it for a second. They’re a team, and they respond as one; they had all heard the loud cheer whenever Onaga did a superb service ace during the prelims matches of July, or the ‘Don’t mind!’ which had been yelled from the stands. Yukie shakes her head in the same fashion as Kaori, while the regulars of their team managed to do their stretches super close by. Keiji hadn’t noticed them moving, but when he looks behind him, Komi’s fingers stretch towards his ankles, while Komi grins up to him. Insufferable, the lot of them. 

While the girls harass Onaga further, Keiji watches as Bokuto finally returns to his other duties as captain. He takes it upon himself to check on everyone all of a sudden, making sure they stretch properly. The care doesn’t just reach to the team’s regulars, but goes as far as the benchwarmers who played only a little. Shaking his head, Keiji doesn’t regret for a second having fallen for such a guy, who's loud and boundless energy fills their whole team with pride. Although they’re all worried for Onaga, they also know their team is strong.

There’s nothing more Keiji needs to say to him, so he joins in for the cooling down. It’s a not so quiet one tonight, as Bokuto, joined by Komi and even Washio, run around making sure no one checks out of the important part after practice. Keiji has one of his feet soles against the side of his knee, his leg stretched out as far as he can get it, and about to let his hands run down that leg into a stretch. That’s when Bokuto bounces back to him, and his palms press into Keiji’s shoulder blades, pushing him down in a gentle manner. Keiji relaxes, exhaling when he feels his muscles slacken under that touch.

“You above all, make sure to stretch well, Akaashi.” 

It’s a good thing Keiji can hide his face like this, and he just hopes that no one notices the redness on his ears. 

 

He welcomes the cool air outside more than anything. The teams stand jumbled while saying their goodbyes. Washio’s small laugh comes out, and it seems it happened because of something Fukunaga said. It’s not often Fukunaga speaks, and even Keiji hasn’t heard his voice often in these past 2 years. 

As he watches Washio being scolded as well as praised by Yamamoto, Keiji’s shoulder is being bumped into by his captain. Bokuto smiles at him as a quick apology, then turns back to talk to Kuroo and Kozume. A fresh breeze reaches Keiji, who had taken the precaution of bringing a scarf here. Today was warm, but the nights were getting colder towards Autumn. Although he’s protected by the wool around his neck, he shudders when he sees Bokuto in nothing but his training shirt.

For someone who just went around all worried about his team, the big brother act really doesn’t live up to reality. The ‘care’ only extends to others, while Bokuto doesn’t think about himself. It’s such times Keiji feels his responsibilities as vice captain awaken, and he keeps close to Bokuto’s heels. Once the Fukuroudani team makes itself loose from the cats, they move towards the gates, Kuroo showing them out. Keiji waits carefully until the team captains are done talking, and he and Bokuto form the end of their group saying the final good bye to Kuroo. 

“Good luck with your youngest.” Kuroo says in earnest, looking past Keiji. “I hope it’s nothing too bad.” 

“Onaga is tough, and this is just a lesson in restraint.” Bokuto grins, and Kuroo matches him.

“Of which you of all people could use some.” Kuroo laughs while Bokuto yells at him. Keiji looks to the team, who has seen enough of these exchanges, and they walk ahead. They all swarm around Onaga, Washio the closest. Keiji makes Bokuto stop and follow him, thanking Kuroo one last time. They take their time catching up to the rest of their team, Keiji setting a leisurely pace. The lag is just enough to make a move. 

He pulls his scarf off, and hands it to Bokuto. He’s unable to say the same cool and caring words he’s been given, without letting his deeper emotions play a part in his tone. When Bokuto takes the shawl, Keiji zips his uniform jersey up to his chin, putting his hands inside the jacket’s pockets. 

The minor protest is easily ignored, Keiji not looking at Bokuto until the other puts the scarf around his own neck. It touches Keiji’s heart how cute Bokuto looks when he’s pleased, cozying up in the wool and hiding his nose inside of it for a second.

“Heh, smells like you, Akaashi.”

Keiji doesn’t know how long he can keep it buried deep down inside of him, as the raging pile of restrained butterflies make him feel hot all over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the last and finally the butterflies will come out :DD


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit this took way longer to publish than expected... I'm really sorry for the slowest ever updates. First I had a blockage to write sexy scenes (which... when I happened to write it for this chapter, it went effortless :''D) and then I had to get someone to beta-read it for me (which... finally has happened :D)
> 
> Anyway!!! I'm really happy and proud of this fic .v. It's the first time that I wrote bokaka, a pairing that I love to death. I'm really in love with Bokuto's bubbly and fun split personality and I wouldn't have thought that writing Akaashi is so nice and cozy. To all those who've read it so far, thank you so much~ I hope this chapter will make you happy *v*

Keiji feels crushed. From the inside and from the outside, everything crashes down on him. Whenever he started feeling these wayward and warming things for Bokuto, it had been small-ish, a burden and a curse yes, but manageable. It was all under control until _he_ is too close. 

But being caught in a big bear hug, Keiji’s face presses against Bokuto who has his hands in Keiji’s hair, who keeps praising him, and it all becomes too much. Keiji’s body is being handled while the rest of the team enclose him too, and a singular emotion takes over Keiji; it's in his toes, in his knees, in his sweat covered spine, abusing his organs, and thumping his heart all the way up his throat. Not holding back, Bokuto shakes him, clapping his back. Where Keiji should feel victorious of winning against Kaisei academy in the third set, he feels nothing but love pouring from every particle of his being. Keiji wonders if humans can glow, and he’s sure he’s caught in Bokuto’s halo.

This is it. 

Bokuto releases him, including Konoha and Komi in the huddle, while Keiji steps back having his shoulders wrapped around by Washio and Sarukui, he knows there’s no better moment than after a win. Bokuto’s smile splits through all the cons rising in Keiji’s head, and the many-toothed grin, complete with sound effect, erases all the worst case scenarios. When their huddle breaks as to meet the team they just defeated, Keiji’s ears become deaf to any sound except Bokuto’s. Keiji follows Bokuto the back line where they all line up, Onaga who has been on the bench with an injury joining them too. 

They bow as one, and Keiji sneaks a glance at a triumphant Bokuto, whose mood is top notch quality tonight.

There’s no better time to confess, Keiji believes, and the resolve manifest in his chest when he stands again. 

 

Once everyone is packed up and ready to go, Keiji takes a moment and employs his commanding voice and makes everyone go ahead. Bokuto is talking with Kaisei’s academy team captain, a middle blocker who gave Bokuto a run for his money. They’re on good terms. Keiji observes it for a while, waiting for Bokuto to head his way, whose high spirits are infectious. Keiji allows himself to smile at the prospect of unburdening himself. The owl anklet hides under his white Fukuroudani tracksuit, and the gentle press gives him courage.

“Where is everybody?” Bokuto asks, not seeing a single member of his team except Keiji. He’s pulling the sleeves of his track suit up towards his elbows. His owl bracelet hangs loosely from his pinky, swaying back and forth as his hands move in reckless ways for his final backstretch. 

“Gone ahead of us. I think there’s a ramen place Komi-san wanted to try out, and coach said he’d treat us.” 

“Uwooh, really!? Amazing.” Bokuto puts the owl bracelet over his hand and to his wrist, then spreads his arms above him, happy all over and excited for food. Keiji still smiles, letting that bright emotion shine on any doubt he harbours, and let the warmth of it cease his nervousness. They walk to the gym’s exit after saying their final goodbyes to the Kaisei team. Bokuto is counting the possibilities of what he could have for toppings, asking Keiji’s opinion too. 

Keiji’s mind is preoccupied practicing the right words and order in his head, as if he hasn’t spent the entire past week agonizing.

Outside, the air is crisp, fresh. Keiji is lightning fast in exchanging his volleyball shoes for the white, outdoor ones, while Bokuto does a full kneel-down to fasten his own. The light outside is dim, and in the gym their opponents start to clean up. Keiji sees a darker corner to his right, then speaks to Bokuto before time can make him lose his confidence. 

“Bokuto-san.” Keiji says, once Bokuto is done with his shoe-ties. Rising, Bokuto raises his arms to high-ten Keiji for the post-win, but Keiji captures them and makes him lower his arms. The touch is intimate, time-consuming, and has Bokuto caught off-guard. He blinks and asks Keiji what’s up. The palm and fingers covering Bokuto’s bracelet burn a little from the touch. The feel of Bokuto’s wrists and the pulse below Keiji’s finger-tips makes his own heart speed up in pace. 

Instead of replying immediately in verbal form, Keiji guides him to the darker edge, where the sounds from the gym become more muted. A perfect background noise for what Keiji is about to say.

“I want to tell you something, Bokuto-san. It might be a bit strange, but I would like to ask you to keep it to yourself.” All of a sudden, the intensity of Bokuto’s stare, the feel of his heartbeat below Keiji’s hands, and the realness of this moment have Keiji back down, releasing Bokuto’s wrists from his grip. The good feelings evaporate bit by bit, and he loses the strength to actually say the words which have been practiced in his mind, and one time awkwardly out loud, for such a long time. They feel heavy on his tongue, which doesn’t move inside his dry mouth.

“Go on. You should know you can trust me. Anything you want to tell me will stay with me, Akaashi.” Bokuto says, his hand capturing Keiji’s wrist this time. Keiji looks down to the connection, Bokuto’s thumb right on his pulse. Inhaling deep, Keiji fills his lungs, drowns out the loudness of his heart, and exhales the words in one go to the ground between their feet.

“I like you, Bokuto-san.” Silence greets him. Even the wind stopped going through the trees and rustle the leaves. Inside they might be stretching, but Keiji doesn’t hear the tell-tale count. Whatever Keiji felt before, he’d wished it would give him the optimism to look up, to see Bokuto’s reaction. But his bravado is gone, exhaled out of his body. He loses hope when Bokuto’s unresponsiveness carries on. He focuses on the hand holding his wrist, belonging to the spike arm that crushes other teams in a heartbeat. 

Keiji feels pretty much crushed, in a different way than before. 

“It’s the love-kind of like, huh?” Bokuto says, a softer version of his usual voice, far too neutral to be his. It lacks the heat, the brightness, the whine, the myriad of emotions he can go through in his mood swings, both high and low. It’s so careful Keiji feels like a newborn owlet, which has to be treated with care and can’t handle loud noises. Bokuto doesn’t do ‘silence’ unless he’s studying diligently or is lost in a new manga or biology magazine. It makes Keiji even more silent to keep up the usual wavelength dynamic between them.

“Yes, it is.” Keiji’s heart sinks, and he retrieves his hand from Bokuto’s grip, knowing rejection when he hears it.

“Hmmm, I know it’s how you are and deal with things, but shouldn’t you be at least a little more energetic about it?” Bokuto inquires, stepping closer. It’s the old voice, at a normal volume, which vibrates of happiness. It’s the exact same tone in which he questions why no one does the 50 serves, the one asking where his team left their blocking technique when he gets a ball past him. It’s Bokuto who says it, his voice bright enough to shock Keiji, as if the content didn’t already. At a loss for words, as everything he needed to say had been out of his system, Keiji looks up, just in time to see Bokuto closing in.

Keiji’s been given half of a second to look at the lips he’s dreamed of so many times before they seal on his own mouth in a short peck. It isn’t a long kiss, it doesn’t go deep or far, nor does it feels as wet as Keiji believed it would be. It could have been a platonic kiss, if such things were common in their group. Yet it makes Keiji’s heart skip. He takes a step back and stares at Bokuto, eyes a wide and searching golden hued orbs for reason. He’s said all he wanted to say, and other words still won’t come to his bidding.

“What is it, Akaashi, you don’t want to kiss? I thought people like to do that usually.” Bokuto tilts his head to the side in non-understanding. His shoulders are at ease, and he blinks. 

“But, Bokuto-san- this isn’t a joke.” Keiji feels ridiculed, as if his confession meant nothing. He’s in a state of distress and doesn’t understand what just happened, although the action was the purest and simplest ever. Bokuto’s shoulders and hair fall, and his head tilts further to the side. 

“Eeeh, I thought kissing you would make you happy and more upbeat! You confessed after all, shouldn’t you feel more elated, Akaashi?” Bokuto grins, as if it’s the most normal thing to do and to say. Keiji is still on his guard, his brain yet to catch up to Bokuto’s thinking patterns. Something doesn’t add up in Keiji’s brain. He doesn’t feel rejected, and the carefree acceptance is something he could have expected from Bokuto. Still. Shouldn’t Bokuto at least react differently when being confessed by a guy?

Bokuto sighs. “Look, I can’t say that I have any experience with boys in these terms, but that doesn’t mean I’m too afraid to try. I mean, we’ve known each other for a few years and we get along well. We have hobbies in kind and are passionate about volleyball. _And_ you’re really nice looking, so!” The kind smile on his lips is reassuring, understanding. So silly, like a kid acting as if nothing was wrong with the world. As if it all was normal business. “And it’s you, after all. Hurting your earnest feelings is the last thing I’d do. I don’t want to reject your feelings straight out, it’d make me an ass. I wanna give it an earnest try.” 

Keiji is stunned to the ground, enough to make Bokuto worry and close in on him. He doesn’t kiss him this time, but holds his shoulders, worry coming through the underlines of his tone. “Akaashi~! Are you okay? Hey. I mean it.” 

Keiji can only blink, his lips tingling when Bokuto is so close to them again. The unresponsiveness worries who Bokuto, whose hands won’t let go of his shoulders.

“Your feelings for me aren’t a joke, Akaashi. Please take care of my curiosity.” His voice lowers when he speaks, a vibrating hum on Keiji’s lips, who haven’t forgotten the brief sensation of earlier. Elation comes as Bokuto said, and it drives Keiji’s hand, blind, to the sides of Bokuto’s face. He doesn’t understand half of what just transpired between them, but Bokuto’s hands are on him, not letting go, accepting his feelings. Keiji doesn’t know how he moves his numb head full haze forward, but he pushes Bokuto somehow out of the light and against a wall.

“Are you serious?”

“Aka~ashi! I wouldn’t dare to mess with your feelings-” Bokuto starts, then stops himself. His hands pull Keiji closer. He kisses him again, teeth nibbling at Keiji’s bottom lip. Giving up a fight of questioning his captain’s train of thought or action, Keiji lets himself succumb into the arms lowering to his side, holding him in a warm embrace. Keiji, forgetting the dread and his unsureness, deleting all the bad scenarios in his head and letting only good feelings remain, finally responds in kind. His hands go around to Bokuto’s neck, still warm after the match, and he opens his mouth when Bokuto’s tongue licks at the seams.

He has no idea how this will work, but Bokuto said he’s willing to try.

*~*~* 

The city doesn’t seem all that different in late autumn colours. Busy as usual, people flocking from streetside to streetside, phones at their ears or in their hands. It’s a warm day, and rain has been forecasted, the temperature varies in the slightest. Keiji walks out of the station, holding a see-through umbrella. He’s dressed in a white polo shirt which bottom side has black stripes, a jade coloured vest, taupe velours training pants, and white sneakers. One of his ankles sports the beaded present Bokuto got for him that one summer day.

Same as then, Keiji finds himself carrying a list of gift suggestions, this time for their other female manager, and once again it fell to him and Bokuto to buy it. His feelings are still the same, if not amplified, less hectic than before. He waits at one of the many exists of this station, looking up to see Bokuto’s run through the masses of people. Thinking and seeing Bokuto makes his heart skip still, as well as getting the multiple messages at night or in the mornings, or having pictures of the two of them in his photo files. 

The only difference from this day and the summery one is that he and Bokuto are together. The other difference is that they’re not just going on gift-hunt, they’re also having a date.

“Keiji, hey!” Bokuto waves from the top of the stairs, the gold and white beads of his bracelet catching and reflecting sunlight, while the black beads are like dots on the sun tanned skin. His feet are fast over the granite steps and he joins Keiji at his side. The audible greetings are as natural as ever, with the addition of Bokuto’s fingers trailing tenderly over the back of Keiji’s hand. A soft gesture no one sees, and they’re soon on their way. 

Bokuto checks the piece of paper Keiji holds by holding Keiji’s wrist and bending forward to let his eyes check over every word. Kaori’s and Yukie’s tastes have nothing in common, and so they walk a different route from the station. Bokuto let’s go of Keiji’s wrist, and they walk close enough to let their elbows touch every now and then. 

Apart of the surprises in Summer, Bokuto’s outfit is less revealing, and he has his hair styled as usual. While listening to his morning routine, Keiji appreciates the sporty grey longsleeve shirt, which either clings or folds to Bokuto’s side depending on his walk. He wears the flower-patterned Adidas knee-high shorts Keiji likes on him so much. The well-trained legs below end in the long-distance running shoes adorning his feet. Keiji knows he ran yesterday, and Saturday afternoons were Bokuto’s resting times. People like Bokuto breathed healthy living and a sporty lifestyle, and the gear didn’t look out of place on their date. 

Keiji smiles, liking that Bokuto not only initiates these outings, but also looks up places to go. They find their gifts for their manager soon (a bag full of stationery goods, a few with owls), and it’s clear Bokuto has another destination in mind, in which he steers Keiji to go in, which ends up being another train station. They take the Ginza line into a direction Keiji doesn’t know, because it doesn’t matter. He will see where Bokuto is taking him once they get there. For now he’s too occupied having a hand in his back pushing him to a two-seater, him at the window, Bokuto right beside him. To Keiji, it wouldn’t matter if they would just take the underground trains all day.

“What did you dream about, Keiji?” Bokuto asks near his ear, voice jovial and light. Keiji stares outside the window, telling him about floating in silver water. One morning, a week after Keiji’s confession, he got a message from Bokuto, asking if he slept well and had a nice dream. The day after, a message asked him to come 15 minutes earlier to school. They kissed in the clubroom, door locked from the inside, and Bokuto asked about his dreams. Keiji got used to telling them. It’s been a month since their first kiss, and he made it a habit to stay in bed for 5 minutes after he woke up, to catch as many details of his dreams and remember them for narration later. 

It hadn’t felt weird. They weren’t ‘test-dating’, and Bokuto was adamant about telling Keiji this wasn’t an experiment either. Keiji had wondered out loud if it was easy for Bokuto to fall in love, and the other answered that since it’s Keiji, yes, maybe it is.

“I am not able to be with anyone who hasn’t an interest in volleyball. I tried but- it’s not good. Plus we see each other every day and spend so much time together. It feels effortless.” Bokuto had told him one night when he took Keiji’s train home, going as far with him as Keiji allowed (which had been all the way to his doorstep). In truth, the whole thing had felt like the first two weeks at practice, when Keiji had been a first year. Training with Bokuto and syncing up with his him isn’t effortless, but knowing him for a good 18 months made this transition from friends to more easier. Bokuto’s sunny attitude shone away all of Keiji’s doubts and dark thoughts, making him live the moments they have together, and not worry about things too much.

They’re half an hour on the train until Bokuto nudges his side and they stand up to exit. Again, Keiji doesn’t check his surroundings too much, doesn’t listen to the speakers welcome message, or bothers to ask. Surprises are Bokuto’s speciality, and Keiji likes them. They exit the train station, cross the street, and then Keiji sees where Bokuto brought him, who widens his arms and points his hands to the sign.

“Ueno park? There’s a few, if what smaller parks around our school and your house, why-”

“But this is special!” Bokuto whines. “We run in those other parks and do boot camp when coach has a bad mood. I don’t want to take you to any regular places, Keiji.” 

It warms Keiji’s heart, whose ears become as pink as the cherry blossoms which trees line the entrance path and would stand in full bloom every April. In elementary school, Keiji had been to this park twice, both cultural learning visits to the temples. In middle school his parents had taken him to the Western art museum, and the Hanami-viewing next to the trees. It felt special coming here, and Keiji enjoyed it every time.

“It’s a good park, thank you.” He says, ready to make new, fond memories here. They walk past the trees not in bloom, northwards. The woods around them are beautiful, and Keiji stops to stare whenever he sees small animals in the trees. Bokuto’s smile is loud in his ears, pleased. They move on, elbows bumping each other, their version of handholding until Bokuto comes to stop in front of another museum this park holds. Heart growing in fondness, Keiji stares up to the Metropolitan Art museum, then checks Bokuto’s face to make sure this is where he wanted to go.

“I’m not a fan of museums but… you wanted to visit this one, right?” Bokuto looks up, face concerned in the face of boredom. It was true that Keiji’s room, as clean as it was, had one messy, colourful corner. There he had hung memo-boards, both magnetic and fiberboards. In middle school, he started collecting cards and programme booklets, posters, names of places written on the magnetic board. When his parents had taken him to the Western art museum, Keiji had taken a leaflet of the Metropolitan, a reminder that he wanted to go there the next time. 

Bokuto had seen it once, and him formulating a whole date for it had Keiji’s body and heart act crazy. He moved without thinking, pushing Bokuto away from the museum. The protest went unheard, until they walked on the green grass and Keiji found a tree wide enough to hide them.

“Ke- hey, Keiji, what the-” The park was full of people in the afternoon sun, but Keiji kisses Bokuto on his lips, silencing him and muting whatever happens outside of their bubble. Letting his hands travel over Bokuto’s ribcage, Keiji holds him still, feeling his heart, and the heaving chest calming down. Bokuto’s response is light, lips brushing back eagerly. Before incidents happen, Keiji stops and looks away, not ashamed. There’s just too much love flowing through his veins and his heart, making him think of _other_ things you could do hidden in the bushes.

“Museum. Yes, let’s go.” He says, walking past Bokuto. They’re careful not to be seen. 

 

One hour later, Keiji’s is halfway done. Even though art museums aren’t Bokuto’s thing, he’s ever faithful at his side, never rushing him. Keiji can spend 5 minutes at every piece he comes across, if not more, but Bokuto doesn’t whine. Nonetheless, Keiji knows this may be hard on Bokuto’s legs, who are used to moving around a lot. When Keiji talks about exiting the museum, Bokuto refuses.

“Huh, you haven’t seen everything yet.” Bokuto says, gazing at an impressionistic piece that makes no sense to his brain. He pouts at Keiji for wasting a minute instead of having fun on their date. Keiji stares at the mouth until it moves to speak. “They’re not closing anytime soon, either.”

Bokuto doesn’t say he doesn’t mind, he doesn’t say how this is for Keiji. The words, unspoken, hang in between. Keiji walks behind him, hand flat on Bokuto’s side, sliding to the other direction as he passes. “Thanks.”

Time passes slowly when the consumption of art happens. Bokuto flies into his line of visions when he sees art pieces that make him laugh, imitating what is seen on the canvas in extraordinary ways. Keiji tries not to laugh out loud, but snorts happen no matter what. Passing the time in both intellectual silence and silly behaviour, Keiji feels as light as a feather when they exit the museum and go back into the sunlight and unfiltered air. 

Bokuto stretches his arms to the sky, a bird released from its cage. Looking around, Keiji feels himself coming back slowly, the museum behind and its pieces letting go of him. The experience leaves him a little stranded. 

“Okay, let’s do something active.” Bokuto grins, touching Keiji’s wrist bone. For a second, the tree comes to Keiji’s mind, but surely Bokuto wouldn’t- Of course he wouldn’t. This is a public space, and even the vast woods the park has are protected and under constant sight. Keiji has the feeling Bokuto is a protective and jealous type, the latter being something hardly shown to the outside world. He wouldn’t want to have them be caught in the act. 

Following by his side, Keiji looks ahead as they walk hence they came, until Bokuto strays to the right.

“Oh-” is all Keiji’s small mouth can utter when he sees the paddling swans come into view. They’re standing in front of the Shinobazu pond, and an army of colourful swan boats rest at the shore, some taking off, others coming back. Bokuto skips ahead to stand in line, and they don’t have to wait long until one a pink monster is being offered to them. Keiji eyes it from outside first, his feet reluctant to step near it. 

Bokuto sits already.

“C’mon, Keiji.” He grins from ear to ear, the owl bracelet visible from where his hand rests on the other seat. Seduced by a smile and the eyebrow-wiggling, Keiji moves at last, joining in next to Bokuto who brings both his arms to his sides..

“Pedal we go!” They take off normal, right to the center of the pond. Keiji doesn’t mind the exercise, starting to relax. The view of the park from the lake is even more breath-taking. They soon get out of balance though. As Keiji takes it easy pedalling on his side, Bokuto acts as if he’s racing someone, pedalling faster and faster. Their pink abomination tilts to Bpkuto’s side, taking an unexpected left turn. This isn’t bad, but Keiji can only imagine them doing rounds. He puts his hand on Bokuto’s thigh, requesting him to go slower.

Instead, Bokuto’s movements come to a standstill, and he watches Keiji. His yellow eyes are a bit wide. Unsure if this reaction stems from a simple touch, Keiji acts, wishing to return his hand to his own area, when Bokuto grabs his wrist from the air.

“Say, Keiji.” Whispering his first name is way different, and Keiji’s heart beats throughout his chest. No one around them cares, the swan having come to a standstill in the middle of the bright blue coloured pond. Not knowing if he should reply or say anything at all, Keiji lets his arm hang heavy in Bokuto’s hand, waiting. “I uh, I didn’t plan to ask- well I planned all of this but, uh.”

In a rare moment of confidence loss which Keiji is used to seeing on a volleyball court, but nowhere else, Bokuto’s eyes blink as he searches for words. He rubs the back of his head and a nervous laughter escapes him. “The thing is mhn- I wanted to ask you before- then forgot, hehe. Ah, Keiji, would you like to uh, sleep at my place tonight?”

They both redden. To their right, a yellow swan comes closer, and although their lower their arms between them, Bokuto doesn’t let go of him. His palm feels sweaty on Keiji’s skin, who feels hot and steaming all over. They had a few sleepovers in the last month, three in total. It never felt this loaded to ask the other over, though. ‘Sleep’ never sounded so much as ‘anything but sleep’. 

Keiji glances to his feet, making them pedal in slowmotion. Bokuto follows his lead, and neither of them says anything until they paddled themselves out of reach of other swans.

“I’d like to.”

The gulp from Bokuto’s throat is audible, and his smile wobbly, twitching, happy. Keiji moves his hand, not away, only meaning to alter their touch. Fingers link in a manmade web. They take their time on the pond, switching to lighter subjects to talk about, enjoying the breezes that come their way, cooling their heads and necks. When no one was looking, Bokuto kisses his cheek.

“Looking forward to it.”

*~*~*

The first time was a disaster. The second time more bearable, but still not perfect. It reminds Keiji on the first two tosses, before he became a second year, before he was the official setter. Before he was good at what he does. The first toss he threw had been into the player’s face, the second went over the net, untouched by his teammates. Keiji never forgot those, the shame in his bones, the urge to get better.

Loving Koutarou, being with him, messing it up with him or because of him, felt nothing like that. 

True, the first few times they tried their hands at sex, things weren’t perfect. Blowjobs were hard, so they skipped that. Keiji lay on his back a trembling virgin, Koutarou on top of him, a trembling virgin trying to mask his fear. There had been pain, breaks, try-agains, easing it in, and the sweetest words Keiji’s ears ever received. The first time was painful for him, painful for Koutarou’s heart to see him so tense, and release came more in the form of being done than an actual orgasm for either of them.

Between those two times came more wonderful things. Hands and lips and naked bodies not trying to become one, but simply sticking to each other beneath sheets. Keiji became addicted to Koutarou’s hands on his back, Koutarou’s mouth on his neck, Koutarou’s staring at him for reactions Keiji felt unwilling to give. He became addicted to Koutarou’s scents, the variety of them, from start to finish of the clean and dirty state. Being the only two people in their rooms never meant that they would end like this, but it was a possibility they exploited when the mood struck them equally. 

Somewhere between those two times, ‘Bokuto-san’ became ‘Koutarou-san’. 

‘Third time’s a charm’ had been their magic trick. They managed not to knee each other, bite too hard, or rush through it. Keiji finally understood why this sort of sexual activity was enjoyable. As always, Koutarou did everything to make it so. He’d tried before, but practice makes perfect. Bodies moved, and Keiji found himself sitting on top of Koutarou, a brand new world which was both terrifying and exciting. Like the tosses he send to Koutarou, this became his second nature, a natural place to be. He started to like looking down on Koutarou, watching him sprawled out on the bed, the futon, the grass. After the third time they stopped counting and just did what their bodies became accustomed to doing. 

It’s been four months since Keiji’s confession, and early February lingered as a cold month not yet accepting it has to be spring time. Nonetheless, his room was steamy and hot with their breaths and their actions, his bed a mess of blankets and limbs and fluids and their sexes. Not always, of course. They could easily lounge a free evening away, merely enjoying each other’s presence, exchange lingering kisses or watch a movie and talk through it. 

Today, Keiji had taken the initiative and invited Koutarou to his place. They’ve lost clothes as soon as they entered, Koutarou playing around with Keiji’s front and checking the mood. They ended up kissing lazily on Keiji’s bed, nothing too heavy happening for a long time. 

Keiji never thought to be a person who likes to be pampered, or who revels in being touched gently. All of it changes when he’s alone with Koutarou, however. There is a mix of shyness, confidence reduction, new territory, and the wish to not hurt Keiji. Therefore, his approaches in bed go hand in hand with utmost care, Koutarou taking his time. He regards Keiji as if it's still a dream, as if it’s their first time, every time anew. As an example of such a fact, he takes Keiji’s foot in one hand, regarding it like a new species. When he snorts, the soft breath of his nose tickles Keiji’s ankle, which Koutarou holds in his palm.

“I’m really happy you’re wearing it.” Koutarou says, eyes on the foot to which he presses butterfly light kisses. His lips go over the beads of the anklet, and he kisses his way over the calf, the side of the knee, till he reaches the thigh. Here, his and Keiji’s breath hitches when Koutarou uses his lips to suck on the flesh, before licking his way further inside.

Keiji closes his eyes, head falling back, still processing the past few weeks of this bliss. What he’d thought himself of to be as a person in a relationship has been thrown topsy-turvy when he engaged himself with Koutarou’s presence. The view of himself as a closed off person was broken apart by Koutarou’s easy, sometimes dirty smiles, his nimble fingers, the rough pushes against a wall and the minutes of lip-locking that would follow. Just like now, Keiji finds himself in his most open, naked form, seducing Koutarou to lie between his legs.

It doesn’t matter if they do it, if anything at all happens. He only wants Koutarou’s body on top of him, to hold him, to let his fingers go through the unstyled hair. As sexy as Koutarou is without trying, he shares Keiji’s view that they don’t always have to have sex when they’re alone. No matter how they past the time, it’s always enjoyable, and Keiji loves every second of it. Koutarou’s passion lights up more when Keiji also wants it, and it only needs a hint from him to get Koutarou’s gears running high and hot. 

As soon as Koutarou’s torso presses on his, Keiji doesn’t feel lazy anymore. Fingers play around Koutarou’s strands, and the laughter at his neck implies more than enough. Kisses on Keiji’s chest are followed by a hand reaching under his leg, a soft caress before fingers press further below, where the mattress meets the back of Keiji’s aching body. There’s no such thing as a lack in sexual confidence, something which Koutarou, surprisingly, had loads of in the beginning. He was always honest but never quite at ease, always afraid he’d go too far or displease Keiji. The more they spend time together and explored, the greater Koutarou’s sexual prowess grew, shit-eating grin included. 

“I really like the cool expression you have sometimes, Keiji. Especially during sex. _Especially_ because I love to change it.” Koutarou breathes out his needs, adds kisses to Keiji’s temple, his fingers digging in deep and curving. Keiji doesn’t restrain himself because of shame, but because they’re playing a game he likes. He chooses to show Koutarou how he bites his lips, but leaves all sounds in the back of his throat, not letting them escape just yet. Koutarou, after all, has to work for it.

“Ah, yeah. Open up for me, Keiji.” Bokuto’s lips are so close to Keiji’s ear that he has little intention of being heard when he speaks after that. He only wants to create a hot mess at Keiji’s ears, to let his deep voice take Keiji places. “I simply love how you look beneath me. You’re enjoying yourself too, right?” 

The fingers curve inside of Keiji one last time, then slip out to be replaced by a heavier and hotter object, much harder in comparison. Koutarou himself likes to impale himself deep in one go, but he’s learned that Keiji likes to drag things out, to feel every inch precisely in the beginning. And so, Koutarou’s hands hold his hips tight when he enters, slow enough to have Keiji unwind all the way and breathe out a little moan.

When such selfless things happen for Keiji’s sake, he cannot deny his love the sounds he craves to hear. He opens his lips and let’s the louder, less restrained tones he can carry escape him. 

“Ah, Koutarou-san… just like that.” He keeps his eyes closed when the initial trusts enter and seep out of him. Koutarou is more vocal, comments on every little thing he sees and likes. And according to the lips caught in a constant stream alternated with moans, there’s much to see and like when looking down on Keiji’s body. He keeps his eyes shut to enjoy the praise raining down on him, as palms slot in place with his hips just the way he needs.

“Fuck you look so beautiful, Keiji. Your skin looks so nice. I want to lick it all over and bite wherever I can.” Koutarou smiles, an audible thing, a little ‘heh’ he does only here. He positions himself closer between Keiji, not letting much of his cock come out before he slams it back in. “You’re so tight and warm, Keiji, fuck. So hot under my hands, too. Move your hips for me, a little… Yeah. Y-yeah, like that, oh f-f-fuck yes, exactly that circling gets me so much, ah.” Bokuto groans, and Keiji lets his lashes flutter open the tiniest bit to watch Koutarou lower his head when the sensation is too much. He doesn’t notice Keiji watches him. 

As wanted, Keiji moves his hips, keeps up the steady rhythm and circular motions that can get Koutarou off fast. Speed is not needed here though, and they slow down their pacing as one being. Some time ago, Keiji’s wish to drag things out has become Koutarou’s own, as if he’d seen the light past the fast and dirty sex they tend to enjoy directly post-practice, in corners no human eye would ever think of finding them.

Keiji’s hands, hiding behind pillows and grabbing at the covers beneath them, let’s his fingers trail over the places Koutarou doesn’t mention, but which Keiji knows are likely spots to be attacked any moment soon, as they have commonly been in the past. Lazy, light, Keiji lets the tips of his fingers grace over his neck to his chest, circling his nipple without touching them directly. As much as he likes every version of Koutarou’s smiles, he simply loves to notch Koutarou down a peg when the shit-eating one becomes too wide, to sure of himself. 

He lets Koutarou bow to him to lick his nipples and kiss the chest area surrounding them. The closer they are, the easier it is for Keiji to let his hand cover a part of Koutarou’s neck where his joints meet and most of the sweat collects. Keiji won’t speak too soon, occupied having Koutarou’s lips and tongue and teeth drive him crazy. Their hips gain in momentum again, moving faster when they feel like, slowing down when they feel too much. 

“Taste so good. Mhnn, your perky nipples just keep calling out to me, you filthy bastard.” Koutarou’s breath ghosts over Keiji’s chest, returning to the nipples to kiss them and suck them into his mouth. Both the words, the feeling, and the hands tickling Keiji’s side make him laugh without a care, drunk and lazy and too much in love to even figure out how to respond to that. Koutarou’s tongue circles around his nipples, traces patterns between them, gives them so much time that his lower body forgets to move fast. He’s as slow as he can get, and as slow as Keiji likes it most.

First round of praises and worship done, Koutarou raises his head to check Keiji’s reactions. Keiji’s hand tightens on the patch of skin he holds, his lashes fluttering when he utters his request.

“Let me…”

“You wanna? Hold on.” Hand slipping under Keiji’s back, Koutarou shifts, watching Keiji and smiling as he sits up properly and adjusts between them. Keiji positions his hands on Koutarou’s chest, revenge itching in his palms when he graces them over the heaving, strong chest. Kissing Koutarou’s chest tends to be too much for him, but rubbing and a slight pull between the fingers work just right. 

“Fuck, I also love it when you’re up there. You know that, don’t you? Little menace.” 

“As much as I like how you look beneath me.” Keiji fires back Koutarou’s words with a smile, not letting him respond as Keiji’s hip circle once before he starts to move in earnest. Riding Koutarou has been one of the many things he’s wanted to do ever since he realized his feelings for his captain. What he hadn’t prepared for was the smug look Koutarou gets when they do this; his hands find Keiji’s hips once more, merely to hold on instead of giving pacing directions. The smug look had been intimidating before, but now holds nothing but sexiness rising at the corner of Koutarou’s lips. 

Liking to touch as much as being touched, Keiji leans forward, letting his hands roam upwards to the tight shoulders. He likes the sharp edge, how he curls his fingers over and lets his top knuckles be caught between the skin and the mattress. Koutarou hadn’t been in the mood to give him shallow or teasing thrusts, so Keiji refrains from playing too much of a teasing game, and simply falls into the rhythm of sex that doesn’t think. Thoughtless, he lets his eyes shut once again, while his mouth slackens, releasing whatever sounds he can create when Koutarou’s hips hump into him.

“So damn fucking beautiful…” Koutarou, breathy and erotic, has no smugness about him when he praises Keiji. His thumbs run over the ridge of the hips, displaying his needs. Keiji focuses on it, pries his eyes open and lets his hands carry him when he leans downward to kiss Koutarou. Head sideways, his tongue dives in deep, and they entangle their tongues while never wavering or slowing down further below. 

Koutarou’s needs are greater than that, still. His arms embrace Keiji and make him lie down fully, chest to chest, sliding bodies and wanton cries. One of Koutarou’s hands is a fist against Keiji’s spine, knuckles greeting him, while the cold roll of the bracelets beads make Keiji’s lower back arch. The other hand’s nails scratch and tug at him, lower far enough to grab his ass and repeat the lustful actions. 

“Keiji… Keiji, fuck. Keiji, I love you.”

Keiji prefers it slow, but caught in Koutarou’s all-consuming and rapid-flowing heat, and those words crossing mouth-to-ear for the first time, breaks any grip he had on handling the situation. For him, Keiji speeds up, letting their skins slap together in ways that wreck Koutarou’s mind.

“Love you so much, Koutarou- ...san.” Keiji breathes out a hitch, his tongue lapping inside of Koutarou’s shell. He’s learned to be unapologetic in his wanting, forward in the taking. His arms go under Koutarou’s head, and he manages to let his hands run through the horned owl hairstyle, loving to mess it up more than the boy beneath him. He’s never thought he’d get so much satisfaction over ruining the hair-do and watch it afterwards when they lie down to cuddle.

Koutarou puts his forehead on Keiji’s shoulder for contact, as sweaty and hot as it is. His grunts are low, edgy, and put Keiji’s ass right against his skin whenever he does it. When he speaks, it’s through his teeth, which often find Keiji’s neck and collarbone. Seems like Keiji is too much to handle for him. “Damn you, Keiji. How am I supposed to keep up like this..?” 

Against the ear, into the hair, laughs right through his moans, Keiji grins. One of his hands cover Koutarou’s shoulder again, nails scratching downward over the chest when Koutarou thrusts upwards. He breathes out a moan before he’s able to formulate a sentence not wrecked by it. “Hardly, I guess? For once.” 

Looking up to him, Koutarou courts a bright blush under his eyes, cheeks that push at his lower eye parts. He grins too, like the sun at the moon, only they’re not planets or stars or rocks in space which are too far away and can’t meet at all. They kiss, as if the thought transcends Keiji’s mind to reach Koutarou, and they lock lips because they can be this close. Koutarou licks both their lips after. “Only this once.”

Smiling softly, Keiji puts their foreheads together when he enjoys Koutarou’s deep thrusts, breathing out and gasping when he hits a sensitive spot. Keiji’s fingers tighten. “Payback for all the sleepless nights you gave me, captain.” 

Blushing even harder at the use of his title in bedroom situations, Koutarou keeps the gaze, his eyebrow furrowing. His movement still. “Sleepless nights..? We had only a few nights together, right, Keiji? And we didn’t do _that_ much as far as I can remember…”

Realizing the mistake in his words, Keiji sits up a little, hands still on Koutarou. 

“I also meant the time before we.. you know. I thought a lot about you.” Keiji knows Koutarou is about to ask dirty question, so he picks up the pace again, eager to make his lover come. He doesn’t mind dirty talk as long as Koutarou does most of the talking. As far as they’d gone in this young relationship, Keiji hadn’t yet mastered the skill which came easy to Koutarou. 

What he does know however, he puts to good use. Hands over the shoulders, he requests Koutarou to sit up, and help Keiji bounce up and down on his cock until they’re both nothing but sounds; names, whispers, groans, skin-slaps, and cries of coming. Koutarou is the first to go down, his head leaning on Keiji’s shoulder again when he does. He’s not tired enough to fall back down, and kisses Keiji’s neck and shoulders, biting him when he takes Keiji’s dick and pumps his hand over it. Embracing Koutarou as much as he can, Keiji let’s himself loose, riding out his own orgasm over Koutarou’s thighs, impaled on his still hard cock, lost in the feeling of teeth and tongue and Koutarou whispering his name over and over.

For a few seconds, its Nirvana. Keiji thinks his eyes are open, but he hardly can’t see anything apart from the white-black coloured hair. His nose is buried deep inside the messy locks, flat hair unruly against his cheek. He thinks Koutarou rocks them, milking the last of their orgasm, or sways them into sleep while they’re still seated. Koutarou caresses Keiji’s back, the beads of the bracelet rolling over the warm, sweat-layered skin. He doesn’t know they’re moving until he’s lied down by Koutarou, on their sides and to face each other.

As feeling returns to his numbed out state, Keiji’s fingers ghost over Koutarou’s side, being met as a palm runs over his elbow. “I meant to say this earlier but, you know that I love you?” 

“Koutarou-san, you actually did say it just now. And it is kinda obvious, yes.” Keiji smiles, lazy and drunk on love, edging closer and into Koutarou’s welcoming arms. Tucked beneath the chin, caressed to sleep and warm everywhere, Keiji repeats his own words too, in full, as he has always wished to say them from the start.

“I love you, Bokuto-san.”

“H-hey! No reverting back to formalities, Keiji.” He then blurts out, “Akaashi!” As much as Koutarou tries, Keiji won’t budge from inside the warmest embrace he’s ever had, unwilling to move his head even an inch away from that sweet-soundig beat of Koutarou’s heart. 

“Mhn, just give me what I know is mine.”

“Don’t even try to quote Queen lyrics on me, hey, I’m talking to you-”

Keiji falls asleep, as happy as he’s ever been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAHAHA YES!! The fic title was indeed inspired by a Queen's lyric. Over a year ago, (and still sometimes) I kept seeing interpretations of Akaashi's character (and Bokuto's) which I wasn't so fond of.
> 
> I usually don't like the fandom masse's interpretation of certain characters, and I think people tend to look at a character in one-dimension. Akaashi is such a sweet and awesome person who isn't just calm and stony-faced. He shows emotions like everybody else, although he may contain it a little better. he still has outburst of joy. He's a second year vice captain at a power house school and pretty much competitive, so I wanted him to have a little 'I like Bokuto, and I want him' mind-set.
> 
> Again to everyone who gave this fic a try and who stuck with it till the end, thank you so much!! I hope it was enjoyable .v.


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